Hold My Bones Together
by VendettaX
Summary: Sequal to Prefects' Bathroom. Harry's life is falling apart after Cedric's death and Voldemorts return is putting even more pressure on him. Can anyone win over his broken heart? Rated for a reason! OOC, eventual slash, full warnings inside...
1. Summer at Privet Drive

**Full Warnings: **

**Mostly follows JKRs original storyline. But I have twisted it a lot to suit my own plot and needs.**

**Refers to Ron/Hermionie, Harry/Cedric, Draco/OFC, Draco/OMC and a few other pairings.**

**Self Harm, self distruct, gore and general super-angst. Warnings may be added later on in the story for specific chapters.**

**Eventual Slash.**

**Disclamer: Not mine. Not making money. Just in it fo the the kicks yo.**

**AN: **_**Please read the prequal: Prefects' Bathroom (you can find it on my profile) before you read this. Both the stories work as stand-alones but it will help you to properly understand everything that happens during this story!!!!**_

**Thanks for the patience all of you who were waiting for this to come out. Means a lot to me :)**

**Enjoy!**

_3edPOV:_

Harry Potter sits at his desk writing a desperate letter, he is almost all out of ink but he drips water into the dried remaints at the bottom of his ink well to get more. On a ripped out page from an old book he writes;

_Sirius,_

_I've given letters to the owls you've sent me but they must not have arrived. So I'm sending Hedwig but she won't be able to get back in, and I won't be able to get out. I need you to send help, send someone to get me, please. I need you to help me, Sirius._

_Harry._

He folds the letter up and ties it with an elastic band. With shakey hands he strokes the soft downy feathers on the back of his snowy owls head.

''Girl, tomorrow, you're getting out of here, I need you to stay by the window all day and be ready to take this to Sirius. Can you do that for me?'' he asks the bird.

She blinks and playfully nips his hand in reply. He smiles and, exhausted, falls asleep at his desk where he sits.

Awoken the next day by his screaching Aunt, Harry Potter gets to work on his chores.

Out in the garden in the sweltering early late July heat he waters the garden, glancing up to his barred and locked window he picks up trowel and throws it. The window shatters deliciously and a white bird soars out. Harry smiles, what ever happens now he will always be able to say he tryed everything.

His uncle, red faced with anger, storms out of the door. He grabs Harry by the arm and, screaming obscenities and threatening unthinkables, he drags Harry back up to his room, throws him on the floor and locks all the locks on his door. Harry feels nothing, he's too tired, and hungry and doubts he'll be getting any rest for a good few days.

With nothing better to do he falls asleep on the dusty floorboards.

In his dreams he is back in a dark graveyard - horrific, laughing faces loom out at him from every angle. He awakes, curled in the corner, sweaty and huffing, with the word 'Cedric' dying on his lips. He can't tell if it is night or day because the smashed window is now borded up, a sudden wave of claustrophobia washes over him. He searches his room for some water. Nothing. He slams his fists into the dresser in the corner of the room and screams.

''Cedric,'' he whispers to himself as he slides on to the bed.

He falls asleep, restlessly twisting in the sheets as images of Cedrics lifeless eyes rip his mind apart.

His aunt is screaching again as rolls out of bed. To his satisfaction he now has bruises on his hands from when he hit the dresser last night. Lifelessly he fixes breakfast for the family, once they are settled and eating he runs himself a glass of water and stands in the corner of the room drinking and staring at the food on the table hungrily.

''What're you looking at, boy?'' Vernon sneers.

''Breakfast,'' says Harry steadily, ''Can I have some, please?''

''You smashed a window yesterday and kept us up last night screaming,'' Petunia told him shortly.

'Dudley laughed. ''Cedric! Ceric!'' he mimicked cruelly, ''Who's Cedric? Your boyfriend?''

Harry's jaw tightened and he cooly set the now-empty glass down on the kitchen side.

''You never say his name,'' Harry hissed. ''You fucking say his name again and -''

He couldn't finish his treat as his Aunt cut him off with a curt slap.

''Get on with your chores, boy,'' Vernon told him without even a glance in his direction.

Harry stared with cleaing the table, washing, drying and putting away the dishes then went on to sort out the living room. About an hour he heard his Uncle shout from the kitchen. He was angry. Frightened, he walked shakily to the source of his uncle's voice.

''What do you call this!?'' he shouted, red with rage, pointing at a mess on the kitchen table.

''I-I don't know, I cleaned it, honestly,'' Harry stammered.

He cleaned it, he knew he did. Glancing over at Dudley, he saw a smug smile on his cousins food-staned lips. Harry grimaced.

''What is the point of even _keeping _you?'' Vernon raged, ''You're useless!''

The first blow hit Harry square in the chest, winded he fell to the floor, weezing appologies. More punches and hits and threats rained down upon his fragile form. Harry tasted blood and blacked out.

He awoke sprawled on his floor. Slowly he tested each of his limbs and ligiments - everthing worked. He rased his hands to feel his face and was appauled by the bloody mess he found. Sinking back to the floor he sobbed. Cedric had promised, promised never to let him come back here again. But Cedric's family won't even look at Harry anymore, because it was his fault Cedric was dead.

Cedric! You rotten liar! You told me everything would be fine! You bastard, I miss you so much. I love you, Cedric! He screams inside his mind.

Harrys days fall into a hiddious, monotonous routine of work, beating, exhaustion, mourning and more work. Harry retreated inside his mind, to where Cedric still live and whispered kind nothings into his ears, telling him he would get through this.

But through the nights Cedric was dead and Harry was facing Voldemort all alone in the dark.

Harry's insomnia, constant want of nourishment and greving led his mind down twisted roads. _Come save me Sirius_.

_LupinPOV:_

We apperated into Number Four Privet Drive and to our delight we had no snivelling reletives of Harry's to concern ourselves with, they must have gone out. However as usual, Moody was being over-calculating.

''Remus, go find Harry,'' he instructed in his gruff voice, ''Kingsley and I will gaurd the perimiters.''

I glanced over at Kingsley who rolled his eyes and smiled, I shook my head and laughed and went off to find Harry. Sirius said that Harry's letter had sounded rather desperate but he assumed Harry was just worried about the lack of corrispondance, also we all knew how much Harry hated spending summers with the Dursleys. And no wonder, there muggle house was all so neat and curious, it smelt odd as well, everything smelt of oddly chemical, although perhaps that was just the wolf in me noticing things other people wouldn't.

''Harry!?'' I called out as I ascended the stairs, ''It's Remus,'' I didn't want to startle him.

Poor things nerves were probably on edge as it was, searching for any sign of the Dark Lord.

As I rounded the top of the stairs I was confronted with a door with many locks on it. Eight, I counted eight locks. Did muggles have particuarly dangerous househond items, I wondered? ....I thought not. Then, what were they keeping behind that door? My concern for Harry suddenly flared. They wouldn't...?

''Alohamora,'' I said and all the locks clicked open.

The door swung open to reveal a very dark, empty room. The window was boarded up and as I stepped into the room I noticed a switch on the wall, In a sudden brainwave I flicked the switch but nothing happened, wasn't light supposed to appear? I shook my head and flicked my wand, pale light illuminated the room and I found I was not alone.

There was a small, grimey, trembling figure hunched in the corner of the room. As I edged forwards it whimpered slightly and tossed it's head to one side, it's face caught the light and ... Harry! I bounced towards him but as I got closer I saw his face. He was battered and bruised, his cheeks were hallowed and his face was pastey. And he was sleeping. I crouched close to his boney figure, not wanting to touch him in case he might break.

''N-no!'' Harry tossed his head again as he spoke in his sleep. ''Just run!''

He started trembling more vioently and sobbing, his hands clawing at the walls.

''Stop it! I'm sorry!'' he begged in his sleep.

I was shocked, unsure of what to do, I gathered the hysterical boy into my arms and gently rocked him, hushing him quietly until his shouting stopped and his trembling slowed, and all that ran down his face was a small trickle of tears. Gently, oh so carefully, I stroked his arm to wake him.

His eyes opened fractionally and he squinted at me, so blearey-eyed and small. I realised I was holding the light too close to him, I placed my wand on the floor and turned my attention back to the now-clearer-seeing Harry Potter. He looked at me with shock.

''We got your note,'' I said lamely.

He nodded sadly as he stood up, moving stiffly, wincing as his bones moved against his bruised skin. I rushed to my feet to help him up, my face a picture of concern, pity and shock. He grabbed his glasses off of the desk next to him, he inhaled sharply as the metal frame sat awkwardly of his swolen face.

''My dream, just forget whatever I said while I was sleeping, ok? It's honestly nothing,'' he told me.

''How can you expect me to believe that?'' I sighed, ''I mean, Harry - what happened?''

He smiled wistfuly, ''I look a mess don't I?'' he asked.

I nodded, biting at the inside of my lip to keep calm, last thing I wanted to do was startle him.

''I told you I hated coming back here, didn't I?'' he said, ''This is what happens here, Lupin, this is why I hate it here!''

''They - They did _this _to you?'' he nodded, ''But, how didn't we notice before? I mean, it must scar?''

''Basic glamour spells,'' he told me, ''No one knows... Well no one knows now...''

''Fucking muggles,'' I spat. ''Why do they do it? They're keeping you in the dark, like this, all the time?''

''Just this summer, I smashed the window to let Hedwig get out,'' he smiled. ''I want to get cleaned up.''

''Yes, yes, of corse,'' I jerked into motion and led him gently out of the dark, miserable room and towards the bathroom.

Harry turned on the muggle light and splashed water gratefuly onto his face, gently dabbing off the dried blood. Only then did he look up into the mirror, I saw his eyes widen in shock at his appearance and blink back tears. How did he manage to hide this from us all these years? He turned to me.

''I want you to put a glamour charm over all this,'' he gestured to his body.

''Why?'' I asked "The others have to know."

"No!'' he snapped, ''I don't want people making a fuss over this, they'll never let it go, I'll never get away from it! Do you understand? If no one knows I can just pretend it's not here. Please, it's better this way...I wouldn't be able to deal with it if the scars were there for everyone to see."

"Harry, I don't want you to suffer alone, it's important people know about things like this," I said.

''Please, Lupin,'' he begged, ''I promise we can talk about this later, we can sort out better 'coping methods' or anything! Just dont let _anyone _know."

I sighed and cast the charm and the scars and bruises faded to skin-colour and the open wounds smoothed over. He looked in the mirror and smiled widely, tears glistening in his eyes. He hugged me gingerly (his bruises still hurt, just not visably).

''Thank you, for everything,'' he breathed.

''You know we'll help you _whenever _you need it Harry. But just don't think I'm going to forget your scars, or what happened whilst you were sleeping Harry, we need to help you now, even though you think you don't need it.'' I assured him, ''Oh, and I'll make sure you never have to come back here again.''

Harry pulled out of the hug, ''Careful,'' he said stiffly, ''Last person who told me that is now dead.''

I stared at him curiously. ''Cedric?'' i asked.

He turned away sadly and walked downstairs.

It seems Kingsley and Moody had already found Harry's school things as they were assembled near the door. Harry immediately went to grab his wand. We found the aforementioned pair in the Kitchen.

''Look at the state of you,'' Moody commented gruffly but affectionately.

Harry looked panicked for a moment before glancing at his reflection in the darkened window, he looked back at Moody questioningly.

''You're skinny, Harry'' Kingsley prompted kindly, ''Don't worry, he may look scary, but he's not about to attack you for not eating well!''

Harry sighed and relaxed slightly, not before shooting me a warning glare.

''Cheer up!'' grunted Moody clapping Harry roughly on the back.

Harry bit his lip to hold in a whimper of pain. Kingsley glanced at me questioningly, I kept my expression neuteural and looked away from him. How long could I keep lying to my friends?

I clapped and rubbed my hands together. ''Come on, everyone, the quicker we're out of here the better! Let's go!''

Everyone nooded and filed out of the immaculate kitchen to collect their brooms from the hallway. I shrunk Harry's trunk and school supplies and placed them in my pocket.

''You alright to fly?" I whispered to Harry.

Harry nodded.

''It's a long way...'' I tested.

''It's fine, I'll be fine,'' Harry hissed.

I gave him one last look-over and mounted my broom.

''Alright everyone, stay in line with one another, make sure no one get's left behind, and just follow me,'' Moody shouted.

We kicked off and flew into the sky.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, next chapter up asap. It is currently half written, but i've got a tonne of other ideas flying around the place atm and a lot going on at home. **

**ASAP, I promise! xxx**


	2. Summer at Grimmauld Place

**A/N: Dear MCR Black Parade, please don't be so scary, flaming sucks T_T**

**Thank you, everyone else for being so supportive and loveley you all get a non-legally-binding cookie. =3**

**Keep leaving love and we might progress to imaginary cupcakes! xxx**

_HarryPOV:_

I have to admit that flying made me feel euphoric. The cold wind rushing past me quickly numbed the aches and pains I was feeling from my bruised limbs, I smiled into the dark sky, remembering what it felt like to be alive as we soared above London. My thoughts quickly turned back to Cedric (he loved to fly) but his voice in my head was no longer sorrowful and panicked, frantic like his last moments had been. No, Cedric was calm, he was somewhere beautiful and he was cheering me on, telling me to run far away from the Dursleys and never look back, and his voice portrayed the same exhileration I felt. His narration inside my mind kept me grinning through the cold and for the first time in weeks I felt happy and satisfied. I could've swooped through the air forever.

But no, the others started slowly circling down to a dimly lit patch of earth (I could only assume it was a park) and I followed suit, reluctantly leaving the air. I feared the happiness would leave Cedric's voice but he still stayed content. I smiled at Lupin as I dismounted my broom, immediately falling over as my legs buckled beneith me. Kingsley rushed to catch me, they all gave me worried looks.

''I'm fine,'' I reasured them, ''I just haven't flown like _that _in a long time'' I grinned.

''Anyway, we're about two blocks away from Headquaters, let's go, it's freezing,'' Kingsley said.

As we walked away I realised with dissatisfaction that my limbs were now hurting again. I sighed and jogged a little to catch up with the others and we all walked in companiable silence the short distance to this mystery HQ, wherever it was.

We stopped in a quiet muggle street, Moody banged his staff on the ground twice and the floor started to shake. I watched in wonder as the houses in front of us split and were pushed aside by another house, portruding from the shadows it rumbled forwards. The muggles inside the moving houses remained completely ignorant of the moving houses, they carried on watching their televisions in peace.

"'Come on, let's go,'' Moody threw one last suspicious glance around the street before pushing me towards the new house.

I glanced over my shoulder nervously at Lupin, he smiled apologeticaly but nodded for me to enter the house. I cautiously opened the door and found a long, thin, dusty corridor with ugly, faded paintings lining the walls. They were all of one family it seemed, although I didn't recognise who, I knew they must be pure-blood (and rich) the portraits were framed in gold. My tired eyes drank in every detail. At the end of the corridor was a large door, slightly ajar, I could hear hurried voices coming from inside. Lupin rushed past me and opened the door for me.

Next thing I knew Mrs Wealsey was flying at me, her ams open - she caught me in a great bear hug. For the second time that night I had to bite my lip against threatening whimpers of pain. I glanced over her shoulder and there (amongst others) sat Sirius. I grinned at him widely, I'd missed him so much.

Once Mrs Weasley had released me I bounded over to him and he stood and caught me in his warm, gentle embrace. I squeezed him tighter, proving to myself that he was real, and I was rescued.

"Ouch,'' he protested, ''You've gotten all boney. Lemme go!'' He laughed.

I didn't let go of him, only slackened my grip.

"I'm so glad you got my note,'' I started, then faltered, "...Just thank you, thank you Sirius."

I glanced up at Lupin and he looked disaprovingly back at me, I averted my eyes, hoping Sirius didn't catch the look. I wanted to tell him, but it's just, I never see him as it is. And he's a hunted man, escapee from azkaban, he's got so much to worry about. I just want to enjoy what limited time I have with him, that's all. I sighed and Sirius patted my head gently.

''You're very tired,'' he said to me, glancing up at Lupin, "Harry, you'd best be getting to sleep."

I let go of him finally.

"No, no, I'm fine," I lied, "Just, at least let me meet everyone. Fill me in a bit on what's happening."

"No, Harry! To bed with you,'' Mrs Weasley ordered.

''Please...'' I glanced around at the people in the room with us.

Mr Weasley was there, a woman with bright purple hair smiled at me, and there were about five other nondescript witches and wizards. And Snape. Snape was there. I felt rage flare within me - he had no right to be here, he's a fucking death eater, everyone knows it. The bastard.

"No, no, no!" Mrs Weasley fussed, blocking my view to the door.

"Go on, upstairs, second to your right," she gestured to the stairs, "Get some sleep."

I opened my mouth to protest but she gave me a stern, motherly look and my arguement was invalid. I sighed and ascended the staircase gloomily and fell asleep with out bothering to get changed. I was exhausted.

My eyes flew open as odd noises reached my ears. I had had my first good nights sleep in a long time and was instantly wide awake, I scanned the room for the source of the noise. My eyes found a haggared, hunch-backed, shriveled creature meticulesly sweeping the room. It was muttering angrily to it's self and as it turned slightly I saw that it was a house elf. An ancient house elf.

"...filthy mudbloods come dragging their filth..." I caught phrases of what it was saying. "Traitors...What would Mistress say?...If she could see...traitors..."

I ignored it's obscenities. "Who are you?" I asked.

"Oh, the blood-traitor wakes," it spat. "Mistress called me Kreecher."

"Oh," I said.

Not quite sure what to say or do I left in search of a bathroom.

I found one a few doors down the corridor, it had fresh, warm towels hung on a rack and soap and shapoo left on the side. I smiled gratefuly, locked the door and stripped. Looking at myself in the full length mirror attatched to the wall next to the door I sighed. The glamour Lupin had cast was very good, you could barely see any scaring or bruises - I still didn't trust it though, but I had no choice until I reached Hogwarts, which was only about a week away.

I smiled at this knowledge and proceded to check the rest of my body over. I was too skinny I noted. I had bareley eaten all summer and (thinking about it) I had forgotten to eat last night. My stomach rumbled in complaint at this recollection. I realy did need to eat something though. My ribs were far too obvious and my spine dug sharply into the skin on my back.

I climbed into the shower and turned the water on. A boiling, strong get of water hit my skin turning it red as the blood heated. I smiled and begun to scrub all the old dirt off of my body. Feeling lighter, happier and more relaxed as all the summer filth was swept away by the forgiving water massaging my tense body.

I dizzily climbed out of the shower, all the heat going to my head. I dried myself and dressed quickly feeling my head steady as I left the steamy room. My stomach complained again and I set of in search of food, or people who could lead me to food.

I begain to descend the stairs but was stopped in my tracks by the sight that confronted me. Hermionie's brown, frizzy mess of hair was half-hidden behind Ron's bright crop of ginger hair, their hands were entwined around eachothers necks. And they were kissing. Ron and Hermionie were kissing! I stood, rooted in shock. Eventually Hermionies eyes flickered open slightly and she caught sight of me. She pulled away from Ron.

"Harry," she smiled.

"What?" Ron asked, confused and evidently slightly lust-dazed. He turned around, "Oh, hey Harry!"

Hermionie jumped at me and caught me in a suffocating hug, her hand was still entwined with Ron's. I stood stock still.

"What happened?" I asked.

Hermionie understood what I was trying to say.

"Harry, this isn't sudden, it's been a long time," she said, "It's just, you know, you've been..." she trailed off.

"Yeah, mate, we were gonna tell you soon," Ron joined, "It's just...Cedric and everything..." even he was lost for words.

"I see," I said emptily.

I internaly sealed my heart in an iron cage. Nothing more would be able to hurt it if it was locked up safe then everything would be deflected. Because the truth is, seeing anyone in love cut me to the core. I missed that. I needed that. And it was moments of happiness, even if it was just observed happiness was what realy brought it all back home for me. That's when I missed him the most. And seeing them kissing so passionately, I could almost tase him, his soft, sweet tones. If I was myself I would've been happy for them, Ron and Hermionie deserve eachother. But I was not myself. Myself was tucked away, somewhere safe and deep inside me. Myself was sleeping peacfuly inside its iron cage and would wake when everything was fixed.

But for now, I would have to protect myself and face the world alone. I swallowed the key to my hearts cage and forced a smile onto my lips. I looked up at my friends.

They pittied me, I could tell. That's why they were lost for words. I must still look a mess, despite the glamour and the shower, I know I still look ill. But I'll show them I'll make it all better. I'll fix everything with my empty stare and cold heart. _Just you wait_.

"I'm hungry," was all I said and took my leave.

I quickly found the kitchen-come-dining room and Mrs Weasley set down a large plate of food in front of me. Fried eggs, bacon, tomatoes, beans and toast was piled up onto my plate and a large mug of tea to accompany it.

"Eat up Harry," Mrs Wealey told me kindly, "We need to get some meat on your bones!"

"Sleep well, Harry?" Mr Weasley asked conversationaly.

I nodded polietly but made no move to try and make conversation with anyone. I stared at the food on the table, my stomach rumbled audiably again and everyone looked away in embarassment. The smell and look of it all was simalutainiously inviting and revolting. I remembered that I hadn't eaten in a long time, so I ought to take this slow or I'd be sick. I wished the others weren't there, it would be hard to explain why I had to eat so carefuly.

I stared by sipping carefuly at the tea, the flavour assulted my taste buds but other than that, it went well. I moved on to the food. I picked up a few beans on my fork and slowly, carefuly, thouroughly chewed them. Swallowing them slowly. I repeated this motion three or four more times and by now the whole room was staring at me.

Their pity was a picture. Even the boisterous twins had fallen silent and still and sad. Everyone looked so concerned. I wanted to reassure them, but I was so hungry I was scared that if I distracted myself I would not be able to finish eating. I had to eat this and I would be able to recover. I had to recover to fight for Cedric.

I continued eating two or three beans at a time until they were all gone. I smiled, proud of myself. See, Cedric, I'm trying! I took a large gulp of tea and instantly regretted it as I felt bile rise in my throat. I expertly suppressed it. Setting down my cutlery, I turned to everyone.

"So, is anyone going to tell me what's going on?" I asked.

"Harry, you're not well..." Mrs Weasley said.

"I'll be fine," I dissmissed her, "I just want to know what's happening."

Sirius opened his mouth as if to talk to me but Mrs Weasley cut across him.

"No, Sirius!" she napped, "He's ill, can't you see! He needs to get better first?"

I turned away from her. "Please, someone, just tell me anything," I asked again.

Everyone glanced to Mrs Weasley, uncomfortably shifting in their seats. I looked desperately around them all.

"Please," I was practically begging now, "Just tell me anything. It doesn't have to be a big sectret. Just some small piece of news?"

"Harry, what you need now is some more sleep, and then some more food,"

She ushered me out of the door, up the stairs and into my room.

"Sleep," she repeated.

I was faced with an empty room, just like back in the Dursleys. It seems nothing changed. Exept this time I could hear concerned voices coming from downstairs and not angry ones. I slammed my fists down on the dresser in frustration. I had a right to know!

I felt my stomach lurch once more in protest at all the food followed by all the movement. I sobbed sliently and crawled back into bed.


	3. The Order Of The Phoenix

_DracoPOV:_

This summer certainly is turning out to be an eventful one, although I'm not all that sure about how I feel about everything that is happening.

Father seems euphoric. His Dark Lord has returned, his connections at the ministry have spread deceit and roumors about the place. Dividing everyone there, making them fight amongst them selves, fight against Dumbledore, fight against Harry Potter and completely ignore the real threat - Voldemort. So every thing is falling into placed for the Death Eaters, they have their Lord back, and the only thing that stands in their way is Potter. Father wants me to spy on him next year, I'm not sure how I feel about that eather.

Because although I let everyone believe I am happy the Dark Lord is returning, I don't think I am really. I don't know what has happened within me, but I keep seeing the grief on Potter's face those last few weeks before summer. He bareley ate, never spoke - only just kept himself alive. And the Dark Lord did that. Diggory did not need to die, and he had no reason to play with Potter eather. He should have just got it over and done with. Now it seems like he just has to suffer more.

But that's just Potter - and Potter's always been a fucking martyr to the cause.

_LupinPOV:_

It must've been worse for Harry than I had first thought, he could barely eat. What had we missed? How could we have left him with those muggles?! I need to talk to him - now. I don't know what to do though, he seems so lost, but I have to try to reach him and help him. Perhaps I could convince him to tell other people about what happened to him so he could get yet more help. I walked nervously down the corridor and rapped on his door.

"Harry?" I called softly.

"Lupin?" he asked.

"Yes, can I come in?"

"I doubt I have much choice!" he laughed hollowly.

_He was right there_. I took that as an affirmative answer and let myself in. Harry was sat cross-legged in the centre of the bed facing the door, he had the curtains mostly drawn so only a small amount of light stream into the room.

"Umm, how are you?" I asked lameley.

Harry didn't bother answering. "I don't want to talk about it, alright."

"Harry, you need to talk about it." I told him sternly. "If not to me then someone else."

"Please, Lupin," he said softly, "I've been fine for all these years, I can get through it."

"Harry, you won't let me help you I'll have to tell someone else. I'll tell Sirius," I said boldly.

"You wouldn't..." he dismissed.

"I can't just keep silent if you won't even talk to me. I'd _have_ to!"

"There's no point, Lupin," he sighed, "I can deal with the lack of food, the...abuse. What hurts the most is that I don't know what's happening outside, what Voldemort is doing. Do you understand?"

He looked at me imploringly.

"You mean you feel isolated?" I calrified.

"Yes," he said, "You see, that's why I'm no better here than I was before - I still don't know what's happening."

"Ah. You're talking about what happened at breafast," Appart from you not being able to eat.

He nodded, silently conveying me.

"I'm sorry about that, but a lot has been happening," he looked like he was going to interrupt me so I hurried on, "But we have to make desicions as a whole here, or the Order just breaks down."

"The order?" he asked.

"You don't even know...I'm so sorry but I can't say anything..." I said sencerely.

"Surely there must be a way..." he emplored.

I thought for a moment. I knew Molly wouldn't budge from her decision of silence until Harry was looking healthier - but from what Harry was saying he wouldn't get better if he didn't know what was happening. Yet, I had no way of explaining it to the others without betraying Harry's trust. I sighed and rubbed my temples.

"Okay, I know I realy shouldn't do this..." I considered it a moment longer. "Fine, I will leave some newspapers in the bathroom just down the hall from here. Don't tell anyone, and if they find them and ask where you got the papers tell them that they were just there. Okay?"

Harry smiled. "So you technically won't tell me anything?"

I nodded. "That's the most I can do for now -"

I was cut off as Harry leapt at me, catching me in a suffocating hug. I laughed mainly because I couldn't think of anything else to do and patted his back.

"Thank you," he said.

"Hey, it's alright," I smiled, "We'll make you better, I promise."

Eventually he resleased me from the hug and I left him to get some more rest. I hope that this works, I'm no good at this and I don't know what I'd do if this dosen't work - I'd have to tell everyone else. And I can't betray Harry like that. But until I can be sure that Harry is sane and healthy and never going back to Privet Drive again I won't be able to get that image of a poor, beaten, defeated Harry barely able to rise from the floor. I shook my head - but he would hardly be able to find comfort in all that the Prophet said. He was going to be angry; but maybe it just had to get worse before it got better? I don't know...

_HarryPOV:_

I awoke a few hour later to the sound of knocking at my door, I mumbled something loudly, hoping that who ever it was would take it as permission to come in. Sure eneough, the door swung open and Hermionie stepped through. She walked over to the bed and sat down next to me.

"How are you feeling?" she asked worridly.

"Fine," I replyed frostily.

"Harry, I...I heard you couldn't eat so well," she clasped my hand.

"I'm fine, I just feel a bit ill," I lied.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry you had to see Ron and me together. How are you feeling, about Cedric?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Umm...You didn't realy want to talk about it...about anything last time I saw you. So, how close where you two?" she tryed.

"Very. Hermionie. I loved - love him," I said bluntly.

"But, why didn't you tell us?" she asked.

I sighed. "Why did you come here anyway?"

She opened her mouth to argue but I dropped her hand and she knew she would get no where,

"Dinners on the table if you want it."

"I'll be down in a minute," I told her.

She looked like she wanted to talk more, and to be honest, I didn't want to hear it unless it was about what was happening whilst I was in muggle-land. So, to my relief she leaft me alone. I rubbed my forehead to clear the last of my tiredness as stood up wearily. I really didn't have the energy to try and face everyone, with thir pityous looks and curious glances. I really didn't need it. But if I could get though dinner I could go get the promised newspaper and at least fix part of what's wrong.

I stealed myself and entered the dining room.

"Hello, dear, feeling better?" Mrs Weasley smiled kindly.

"Yes, thank you," I said. Sleep did me a lot of good."

Great, now I would have to try and eat even more, so they think I'm on the meant from whatever 'illness' I didn't contract. Mrs Weasley set down a bowl of soup and some bread.

"Thank you," I said, truly gratefull that I wouldn't have to struggle with harsh foods.

I let the soup slide easily down my throat but was full by the time I was half way through the bowl. I smiled, happy that I felt content for the time being to let the conversation with the people around me swirl into a dizzy haze. I could answer all their queries with a simple "Yes", or "no" or "What do you think?" However, after I had let my food settle I remembered the promised newspaper from Lupin and quickly made my excuses to leave the smiling faces. Such a contrast to this morning I thought as I made my way to the bathroom.

Once inside I quickly found the newspaper, tucked it inside my shirt and stole back to my room. I curled up on the window seat and stealed myself to discover whatever horrific deeds Voldemort had commited.

'THE BOY WHO LIES' was the headline splashed onto the front page. I stared in disbelief - rereading the headline. It was no mistake. I read the article printed below it... apparently the ministry didn't believe Voldemort had returned...surely not? I flicked through the paper that held other headlines such as 'DUMBLEDORE PLOT TO OVER THROW MINISTER?' and 'I WON'T SEND MY CHILDREN BACK TO HOGWARTS'. I just stared in complete and uter disbelief. Only one headline looked promising in the way of actual _news_; 'MASS AZKABAN ESCAPE'. See, that's a sure sign of Voldemorts return. I read further into it and it turned out the Ministy was trying to pin the breakouts on Sirius.

I groaned in anger and frustration, quickly feeling my temper reach boiling point. How dare they say I'm mad? Fucking newspaper - fucking rag. I stood there and watched him return, I still have the scar from where he drew blood from me. Can't they see that Cedric died? No one just drops dead. I grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. And - I breathed raggedly - how fucking dare they try and keep this from me?! It's my right to know! I fisted my hands in my hair and screamed aloud. Grabbing the newspaper I tore down the stairs to the dining room where I knew everyone would still be sat.

I slammed open the door making it rattle in its hinges, every face in the room turned to stare at me. I was breathing harshly, holding the paper menicingly infront of me, this finally sunk in to the people around me and some of them jumped up to try and calm me.

"What the hell has been happening!?" I demanded.

"Listen, just calm down a bit," Lupin suggested gently.

"Just give me some answers!" I shouted. If I calmed down I would surely collapse of exhaustion.

"Just look at this! Look at this!" I gestured wildly towards the print, "They say I'm mad, that I'm lying. Fuck, I won't calm down."

I threw the paper wildly, paper scattering messily all over the room. Tears threatened to stab at my eyes but I forced them back down with a strong burst of will power. The assembled people cast worried glances around at eachother and then looked to Sirius, as if sharing some unspoken agreement. I turned to Sirius, expecting answers. He rose slowly and came to stand in front of me, his hands resting on my shoulders in a bid to calm me. I stubbornly refused to be pacified.

"Ok, let me start with explaining what we're doing here," he looked at me for approval and I curtly nodded, "We are called The Order Of The Phoenix. This organisation was set up by Dumbledore during the last war to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters. This is our 'headquaters'; Grimmauld Place. It was my family home for many years and was left to me by my mother but I don't have much use for all these spare rooms so I let The Order use it."

I nodded so he continued. "As for the Daily Prophet...Well Fudge is scared. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be minister, which is completely insane, so he believes that Dumbledore and you saying that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is some sort of campeign against his role as Minister. Relax a little though, not everyone believes everything they read. You still have a lot of supporters out there, they may just be slightly harder to find."

I shook my head in resignition and sat down with my head in my hands. So that's why they thought it better if I remain in ignorance? Hmm...I was going to have to use much more than my magic and physical ability to defeat Voldemort. No - I was going to have to be cunning, witty and imaginative if I was to come out the other side alive. I sighed with fateuge.

"I'm sorry...I was just so _angry..."_ was all that I said.

I began to pick up the scattered newspaper sheets when a particular headline caught my eye. I scanned over it 'POTTER RESPONSIBLE FOR --' no. I couldn't read any further. My mind went blank as white hot rage coursed through me, tearing at my skin. I screamed in agony and clutched the sheet of paper to my chest as I fell to the floor, sobs wrenching at my chest. My heart thudded as if it knew it was breaking, being torn apart once more. I curled up into the foetal position, rocking slighly on my haunches, tears streaming down my face.

Everyone crowded around me, curiosity marring their faces, someone (I couldn't see who, I couldn't see anything) gently took the piece of crumpled paper out from my vice-like grip. I heard them draw breath through their teeth and imagined them to be shaking their head in sorrow.

They read aloud; "POTTER: MURDERER? - could it be that the boy-who-live could well be resposnsible for the death of one Hogwarts student; Cedric Diggory?"

Hearing it spoken aloud was like a lance through my heart. I howled in pain as I felt what little life force I had being ripped cruely out of my. There was no way I could go on like this. With salt being shaken upon my open wounds just as I begin to forget they're there. A painful, ironic reminder of the life I'm living and how no one can be trusted (because that gets you killed) and how I can't be loved (because that gets you killed).

I felt strong, sturdy arms lift me and hold me against a warm chest. I squinted up through my tear-saturated lashes and saw that it was Sirius and that I was being carried out of the dining room. I couldn't bring myself to care where to. I just sobbed quietly against his chest, well aware that I was soaking it. He stroked my hair kindly, as if to let me know that I could cry as much as I needed to.

He lay me gently down in a familiar-feeling, warm bed. Pulling the douvet up over my tired libs and tucking pullows carefully beneath my head he continued to stroak my hair softly, sending me quietly into sleep.

"You realy loved him didn't you?" he asked.

I knew it was rhetorical, but I still nodded half heartedly. Not bothering to try and expalin that I love him. Not 'loved'. Present tense - love. I felt myself slip further into the soft blackness, the tears drying on my face.

Last thing I felt was a gentle kiss on the forehead as Sirius bade me goodnight and then I was asleep.


	4. To Hogwarts

_HarryPOV:_

I spent most of the remaining weeks of the summer in my room or wondering the house. I didn't feel like interacting much with other people and I think they felt awkward around me. I guess it's not fair on them - they're trying to be good to me but I just feel as if time alone is better. Cedic's there with me anyway. I have whole conversations with him when I'm alone. Problem is there's nothing physical; a painful reminder that I am (in fact) alone. I long to touch him, just briefly, remember what his hair feels like or what his clothes smell of. I wish I'd cherished it more when he was here.

My almost routine conversations with Lupin were becoming robotic. Almost like a really bad, sick joke. But despite all his threats to remove the glamour and tell the others about what was happening to me he never followed through. The glamour stayed up and the others stayed ignorant, exactly as I needed it. I could work all this through alone.

* * *

It was the last evening of summer and everyone was assembled in the dining room for a feast. The table was heavy with all differant types of food - roast vegetables and meat, soup, salads, pizza. I grinned at the sight of it all, I was suddenly starving and so glad I was back to being able to eat normaly again. I piled up my plate and feasted.

I was sat next to Sirius at the table and as we ate we talked. We started off just small talk: what he'd been doing since I'd last seen him; how school was going; how was my quiddich keeping up? But soon the conversation turned to more current events and therefore to Voldemort. As his name was mentioned in the conversation you could feel the static rise in the atmosphere as the watchful adults kept an ear on our conversation, making sure no information was leaked to me - a mere child. I smiled at their idiocity, there was no way they could keep me out of this forever. He wanted me dead.

"Can't you tell me something?" I tryed, "Surely just a hint?"

Sirius considered the now-blatently onlooking crowd and then looked back to me weighing up his words carefuly. I didn't rush him; he had to choose them well to give me just eneough information without breaking the rules.

"All I can tell you is that Voldemort is looking for something -"

"Sirius..." Lupin warned.

He sighed. "Something he didn't have last time."

"That's eneough!" snapped Mrs Weasley protectively. "He's still a child."

Hermionie, Ron and the rest of the Weasley siblings looked like they were going to protest but Mr Weasley silenced them with a warning look.

"I want to fight!" I said boldly.

"Absolutely not!" Mrs Weasly said, "That's the end of it!"

"But-" she glared daggers at me and I quickly shut up.

I ate the rest of my meal in silence. What could Sirius mean? Something he didn't have last time...But that could be so many things. It could be anything - from a small piece of information or a key, or it could be a massive army of Centaurs. This would require an awful lot of thinking...

I had my case all ready to go and Hedwig fed and watered so all I had to do that morning was pull on a pair of jaeans and a t-shirt. I considered the early-september weather for a moment and pulled on a hoodie as an after thought. I looked at myself scrutinizingly in the mirror; I still looked worn out and slightly ill, but Lupins glamour was holding and all the new cuts and bruises had healed. I needed to check for new scars though (my face was pretty battered up) _shit_ if I've scared my face that could be disasterous. I would have to check as soon as I got to Hogwarts - until then I'd better fucking hope at least my face was fine.

Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, Hermionie and me were accompanied to the train station by Moody, Lupin and a large, black, shaggy dog. Sirius was being such an idiot, taking a risk like that. We arrived with time to spare so Lupin took me and Padfoot into a small waiting room to have some quiet.

"Sirius, what the hell do you think you're doing?" I hissed as he morphed back to human-form.

"I had to see you off didn't I?" he smiled.

"Harry, we're not going to lie, it's going to be hard going back to school," Lupin said, sitting down next to me.

"What else is new?" I brushed the warning off jokingly, but inside my hear was fluttering with fear.

Sirius came and sat down on he other side of me, he clasped my hand and looked into my eyes intensly.

"Stop trying to hide your emotions from us, we know there's some thing troubling you, we're practicaly your family" I opened my mouth to make some excuse, "But I believe you will tell us when you feel ready. But there will be people at Hogwarts that will try and get emotional reactions out of you..."

"Don't give them the satisfaction," Lupin told me, "But be honest with those you trust. Harry, be strong."

I nodded, my mouth dry with unspilt tears, I didn't trust myself to talk. They were so wonderful to me, I don't fucking deserve all their love and attention. I must be like a weight on their shoulders, I beg help of them and then spend all the time sulking and keeping secrets. I swallowed my pride and got up to hug them goodbye. I pushed down my tears.

"Thank you so much for everything," I said levelly, being careful not to let my voice break and shatter their hearts.

"We'll see you at christmas," they told me.

With that I was whisked away by Moody and into platform nine and three-quaters where Ron and Hermionie were already waiting with my trunk and a very disgruntled looking Hedwig.

"You alright mate?" Ron asked, "You look a bit shook up."

I smiled emptily. "I'm fine, just had one of Moddy's 'be alert at all times or you WILL die' talks," I lied. "Can you go find a place I'll be with you in a bit, just got to recover."

Ron and Hermionie laughed. "Sure thing, we'll see you inside."

I waited until they were out of sight to lean exhaustedly against a brick pillar. I bit my hand and my back shook with the effort of holding in the sobs threatening to burst through my chest. I hid my head behind my arm as a few tears rolled down my cheek. I bit at my hand harder, until I could taste blood and I stoped crying. I looked at my mess of a hand and smiled sadly as it faded under the glamour. I rubbed my eyes and walked on.

_DracoPOV:_

I entered the platform through the large archway between the muggle platforms nine and ten. I entered the buisy, noisy, mess that was platform nine and three quaters and sighed in apathy. Just glancing around at the teeming throng of sick looking first years, crying and smiling mothers wishing their children a good year, groups of friends loudly chatting about their summers; it was eneough to make me feel sick.

My eyes scanned for some familiar faces but fell upon a small figure, hunched and shaking against one of the strong stone pillars that upheld the roof. I stalked silently towards it, wondering who (or what it was). On closer inspection it was deffinately human, but I couldn't catch a glimpse of a face through the shadows. It was wearing muggle clothes though - jeans, I think, and a hoodied top - from the shape of the figure I guessed it was a boy.

I walked up the platform, not wanting to be caught out when whoever-it-was came out of their reverie. I watched (now out of the corner of my eye) as the figure shuddered and raise a hand to it's hidden face and I thought I caught a glimpse of red before it shimmered away to a skin tone. Was that...blood?

The figure righted it's self from its haunched position and started to walk smartly down the platform. Potter. That was Potter? I quickly regained my composture and stared at him as he stakled steadily past me. He caught me staring and worredly checked his face in the reflection of one of the train windows, giving me one last startled look he pulled up his muggle hood and hurried away.

I watched him as he left, he stopped a few cars further down the Hogwarts Express to check his reflection nervously again. I grimaced inwardly - still as narcisistic as always it seems. But he does have a differant edge to him. He looks cold, tired and...haunted. And what was that I saw earlier? That certanly wasn't the Harry everyone cherished. That was a broken man, he's hiding something painful inside of him I decided.

But I suppose that's not surprising. Just over two months ago he accidently came out to the world whilst kissing a corpse. And the press haven't been kind to him at all. In fact they've been downright cruel to him.

I entered the train, still deep in my muse. Curious.

* * *

_Harry POV:_

I saw Draco's sterling silver eyes peirce me and I panicked. I checked my face quickly in a window for scars; fuck if the Dursleys had scared my face I don't know what I would do. But Lupins glamour charm held well and I couldn't see anything unusual on my face, to be sure I pulled my hood down and hurried off. I stoped a minute later to see if Draco was still watching me - he was and with an odd expression on his face, something akin to pity.

I jumped into the first carriage I could and set off to find Ron and Hermionie, which didn't take me long. I relaxed as we settled into a booth for the long journey ahead. I felt better to be going to Hogwarts; back home. I smiled peacefuly and felt Ron and Hermionie relax with me (they'd seemed rather tense with me all summer, as if I were about to explode). I noticed their hands quickly entwine for a comforting queeze and my heart lurched. I stared out of the window and kept a straight face.

"So, Hermionie - How are you planning to split time between Ron and your other great love?" I asked cheerily.

Hermionie flushed pink. "What?!" Ron was startled.

"You know...the library," I whispered the last for effect.

Everyone laughed and the conversation started flowing naturally. Nice and distracting and pointless.

The rest of the journey passed uneventfuly and Ron, Hermionie and me were amongst the last to step off the train. Neville (who was with Ginny) smiled at us and waved us over.

"Hi guys, nice summer?" he asked happily.

"Yes thanks," Ron and Hermionie answered. I didn't bother and Neville was kind eneough to let it slide.

"We'd better hurry if we're going to catch one of the coatches to the castle," I smiled.

"Yep, let's go," sang Ginny.

We walked to the coach leaving-point, chatting and joking as we went. When we arrived I noticed a coach pulling away.

"Blimey, hope that's not the last one," huffed Ron.

I saw Cho wave at me from the back of the leaving coach. I turned away from her.

"That wasn't the last one," a tinkiling voice sounded from the carrage, "This one is though."

I moved to get onto the carriage but stoped in shock. It wasn't being lead by nothing anymore; it was being led by...I guess you could call them horses? Strange, rotting, skeletal horses. But still they held an odd beauty about them.

"They won't hurt you," the strange voice said.

"I know," I whispered. I thought I heard a tinkling bell-like giggle come from the carrage.

But somehow I realy did know they wouldn't harm me. I reached my hands out an cupped ones face, gently stroking down it's neck. It snorted happily and pawed one of its hoofs on the ground.

"Harry, what are you staring at?" Hermionie asked.

"The - the horses pulling the cart," I said honestly.

"Harry, there's nothing there..."

"But, I can see it, touch it, smell it, Hemionie," I protested.

"Harry, you're starting to freak me out," Ginny said, "Just get in, okay?"

I nodded, curious to see who this other person with the curious laugh was. I saw long, wild, blond hair bled fluidly with allabaster skin and bright, alive eyes. I smiled at the sight of her - she was so, so alive. It gave me hope. She smiled and she shone.

"Don't worry, I can see them too," she reassured me, "You're just as sane as I am."

Well, that was debateable. "What are they?"

"Thestrals," she said without missing a beat, "And you can only see them if you have witnessed death."

"Oh," I froze.

I can only see them because of Cedric. That's why they calm me - it must be. It feels like him. The girl squeezed my hand and I jumped out of my thought-induced trance.

"Everyone this is Loony-," Ginny corrected herself, "Luna Lovegood."

Luna smiled and shook hands with everyone. "Nice to meet you all."

The bumpy ride up to Hogwarts was spent in companiable silence.


	5. The Feast

**A/N: So, so, so sorry it took so long to get this up T_T thank you all for being patient - I had a lot of homework to do.**

**My excuses are not worthy of your attentions =_=**

**ENJOY xxx**

_HermioniePOV:_

The Great Hall always looked stunning, the sky-ceiling revealed the beautiful undertones of purple and blood-orange in the late evening summer sky, the walls were illuminated by hundreds of candles that made everything glimmer as if it were cast in gold. The tables, laden with rich foods, seated the happy faces of hundreds of hopeful students and, with the sorting now complete, there was nothing to do but eat, talk and laugh. I smiled - it felt so good to be back here, Hogwarts feels so safe.

However, there was one damper on the day; dear Harry. Yes, I felt sorry for him. Yes, I know he has been through a lot recently. And yes, I hate myself for resenting him for his moods. I know it's not fair on him, but he realy needs to lighten up, it's the only way he'll ever get over everything that has happened to him. Right now, as he sat there with a hardened expression on his face and staring the food down as if it owed him money, I realy couldn't help but only feel annoyance that he isn't at least _pleased_ to be back at the place that he calls 'home'.

He seemed fine on the train. But now, he's barelyey touching his food and not realy responding to anyone around him. Perhaps he's working extra hard to ignore the whispers around him (people talk about what The Daily Prophet has been saying). But, realy, people have always talked about him behind his back - he should be used to it by now. Although, maybe this time it's more personal. His boyfriend died and now everyone's denying that the murderer is real and accusing him of _being_ the murderer. I wonder how I'd feel if someone killed Ron in front of me? I shuddered at the thought and decided not to even think about what I'd do if people said _I'd_ murdered Ron.

So, alright, perhaps he does have good reason to be as stony-faced as he is. But there is one more thing: the press' question of his mental state. I think, (God, I hate to admit this), but I think they're right on that one. That Harry's not all there. I mean, I don't think he hallucinated Voldemort's rising, or fabricated the events of that night. But something that night cracked something deep inside him, some subconcious fear he has was scraped to the surfice. I'm not entirely sure but I know I need to keep an eye on him. A very close eye. I worry about him.

I think that Ron and mine's developing relationship has upset him a lot too. I suppose he feels that now that he has lost his lover the whole world is in love and only he is alone, and Ron and me are driving that home for him. I don't want it to hurt him though. I want it to help heal him - to see that relationships can survive and thrive in this time of upheaval and war. I hope it won't hurt him too much though because there are many things that I would give up for Harry - but Ron is not one of them.

I was wrenched out of my musings by the silence that fell around the busy Hall as Dumbledore rose to the podium to give his start-of-year welcome speach. He repeated the basic information for the first years and then went on to tell us about the staffing changes.

"We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank," he said with a flourish of his hands, "Who will be taking care of Magical Creatures lessons in Professor Hagrid's absence."

Harry, Ron and I shared a worried look - Hagrid was most probably away doing something for the Order. Which in turn meant it was most probably very dangerous.

"...And I a pleased to introduce our new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge," he beamed.

Our collective eyes turned on the primly dressed woman all in pink and she smiled widly at our disaproving faces. She was to teach us DADA? She looked like she had never even had to defend herself against a slightly rude sales assistant let alone any dark magic. She cleared he throat neatly and rose to her feet (which was not a long way to go considering how short she was). The vibe emminating from the students darkened as we glared at her waddling towards the podium Dumbledore stood at. No one had ever interrupeted one of his speaches. He politely stepped down and aloed her time to speak.

"That you for those kind words of welcome," she simpered, "How loveley to see all these bright, happy little faces looking up at me. I know we'll all become very good friends."

She smiled a little showing too-white pointey teeth. Snorts of bareley surpressed laughter echoed around the room - none of our faces where smiling, and if they where, after being spokien to in such a patronising tone the woman was lucky she wasnt already the victim of some wandless magic let alone a few scouls. He voice took on a slightly more monotonous, learned-by-heart pitch.

"The ministry of magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance, we must pass down the skills of the wizarding community lest we lose them forever. Every teacher and headteacher brings something different to this historic school thus progressing it and preventing it from decaing. However, progress for progress' sake must be discouraged, our tried and tested traditions must stand. And so creating a balance between the old and new, tradition and innovation..." she paused a moment to clear her throat again ("hem, hem") and ploughed on.

"Let us now move forward into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability. Let us preserve what ought to be preserved, perfect what needs to be perfected and prune wherever we find practises ought to be prohibited," she sat down and Dumbledore clapped before taking to the podium once more to finish his speach and wish us all a goodnight.

We trapesed out of the Great Hall, all tired and ready for bed.

"Well..." huffed Ron, "What a dull speach!"

"Realy? I found it rather illuminating," I said crypicly.

"Illuminating!? You can't tell me you enjoyed it?" Ron said in surprise.

"God no," I smiled, "It just explaned an awful lot."

"Like what?" Harry asked. It was good that he was showing some curiosity.

"Well, for example when she said: "Progress for progress' sake must be discuraged"? Or what about -"

"In small words please Hermionie," Ron interrupted.

I sighed irritably. "It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."

"Hmmm...curious," Ron said with mock interest. I sighed again, this time in frustration.

I glanced to Harry to see if he'd reacted any better to my little 'revelation'. He was busy keeping his eyes down cast and his body tensed up. He had been stupid not to expect people to talk about him - he needs to find a better coping mechanism to people staring at him than this.

* * *

_HarryPOV:_

Everyones glares burnt into my back, I could feel every one of them scorching their thoughts about me into my mind. Everyone thought they knew everything about me suddenly. Some believed that I truly was hurting, and fearing the inevitable rise of Voldemort. However, most believed that I was attention seeking, insane and perhaps even murderous...but the one thing they all had in common - they all knew I was in mourning - a frightful, terrible time for anyone to go through. And with the worst coming out in history...I chuckled emptily to myself. Pretty fucked up.

As soon as we reached the boys' dorm I collapsed on the bed and lay motionless for a few minutes, soaking up the comfort in the warm sheets. I reluctantly sat up, deciding that I ought to sort out my things before anything else.

"Hey, Harry," Dean said awkwardly, "Are you...you know, feeling fine?"

I smiled softly, appreciating his kindness. "Thank you," I didn't answer his question, didn't feel like lying. "How was your summer?"

"Good thanks, better than Seamus' anyway."

"What's up, Seamus?" Neville asked.

I jumped slightly, I didn't notice he was in the room. Seamus stared at me for a moment before answering cautiously:

"Me mam didn't want me to come back this year."

"Why?" I asked.

I breathed deeply. "Because of you."

"What do you mean?" I said.

He threw a newspaper at me, me seeker reflexes kicked in and I caught it smoothly. POTTER PLOTTER? it read. I got the message.

"You believe all this...this bullshit?" I spat, throwing the newspaper to the floor.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact I do, and so does most of the wizarding world with half a brain cell!"

I rounded on him, anger rushing through my veins, so loud, deafening me. "It's fucking lies!"

"Well no one was there, were they? The night he died...tell us what happened," he challenged.

My anger dissapetated instantly, leaving me feeling empty and vunerable. Not this. Fuck, I need to tell them, I know it will hurt, it will be blinding agony like having cuts soaked in white spirt, it will rip me apart but I've got to. But it hurts so much even to hear his name. _Be strong, love;_ his voice. I clutched the side of a bed for support, trying to gather the courage to force the tears back inside. _Be strong._

"Fucking mentalist poofter," I heard Seamus hiss, thinking I'd turned down the challenge.

"Fine!" I shouted, everyone turning to me insurprise, "Fine, but I doubt it will make any difference..."

Heart in a steel box, I reminded my self, seal your heart away and then nothing can ever touch you, never hurt you. You can be a machine it's simple, just push your heart away and live with no emotion. It can't be that hard.

"The Triwizard cup was a portkey and Cedric and I were transported to a graveyard, the graveyard that Tom Riddle Sr is burried at. I had seen this place in my nightmares so I told Cedric to run (my leg was injured), I sceamed at him to go but he wouldn't leave me. I looked scared, he wouldn't leave. Peter Pettigrew emerged from the shadows and with no warning cast Avada Kedavra on Cedric...I watched him fall in that graveyard and couldn't get to him before all the warmth left his skin. He was so cold and I kissed him and my memory memory blacked out and then I was trapped and..." my cascade of words was tumbling out of my mouth faster than I could control it. I needed to stop, I was vaugely aware of rocking myself.

"Harry...stop," Neville said gently. "Eneough."

Seamus turned away, shaking his head and muttering something I couldn't quite hear. I curled up in the centre of my bed, Neville had the decensy to draw my curtains and I lay like that for hours, staring blankly at the lush hangings.

Gradually I became aware of the soft sounds of sleep and deep blue darkness of the night. I sluwly streached my stiff limbs and sat up silently. Yawning slightly I padded to the bathroom.

Once inside I sighed and cast off the glamour - no new scars that I could immediately see as I peeled off my clothes. Perhaps there where a few new marks hidden amoungst the myriad on my back but I doubt I would ever know. Luckily there where no scars on my face or hands, or any easily visable area for that matter, which meant I could go without the glamour sometimes. It's nice to be back in my own skin. I put my warm pyjamas on and stole silently back to the dorm.

But I didn't feel like sleep. So instead I curled up on the large window seat, letting my cheek rest against the refreshingly cool glass. I stared out of the window and let my mind wonder - no sleep for me tonight. Nightmares haunt the sleeping and I just don't have the energy for that.

So I sat and I stared and I wondered...dreaming with my eyes open until I begun to see the first faint rays of fushia grace the sky, and slowly the black became baby bule and the castle awoke. And I watched it awaken.


	6. Defense Against The Dark Arts

_Hermionie POV:_

Harry looks so tired, but I'm not massively surprised, I heard about his arguement with Seamus. It's good that he is at least talking about things, about anything - just not like that. He needs to talk to someone who actually cares about him for that. God, he looks terrible, like he didn't sleep at all, it's not good for him to stay awak too long. The night neales you dwelling on the past and right now it's more important than ever that he looks towards the fututre. A bright future. Because he's the Golden Boy and we need him...all of the wizarding world needs him to be ok.

I yawned and strached my arms. "First lesson's DADA?" I checked.

"Yup," said Ron, shoveling more food into his mouth.

I smiled fondly. "That Umbridge woman's going to be a nightmare, don't you think?"

"Hopefuly, she does actually know something about the dark arts," Neville joined in.

"Yeah, that's likely, by the looks of her!" Ron snorted sarcasticly. "I've never seen so much pink in my life."

"We should be careful around her," Harry said quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. "If Hermionie's interpretation of her speach is anything to go by then she'll be reporting any disruptions back to Fudge. He's the last thing we need."

Everyone fell into a pensive silence. Eventually Harry yawned and streached his arms above his head.

"Well...best not keep the devil waiting?" he said.

I smiled at him. That was humor, albeit dry and sarcastic, but that surely must be positive?

I have to keep my eye on him for this lesson, I reminded myself. If Umbridge is working for the ministry then no doubt she's going to try and put Harry down as much as possible. She won't beleive a word he says. I need to make sure Harry ignores her, keeps his head down and does his work no matter how hard it might be. It should be best in the long run; if he rants and raves about Voldemort and Cedric then everyone will assume him mad, but, if he keeps up a strong, defiant attitude people might stop to think if he really is the one feeding them utter rubbish.

We arrived outside of the DADA classroom without interruption and entered along with the stream of summer-worn students. Umbridge was already seated at the teachers' desk and we found our own seats chatting and laughing amongst ourselves. I looked at her in mild disgust - she was still bedecked in pink and wore that ridiculessly patronising smile from last night.

"Good afternoon, class," she said loudly, silencing the whole class.

A low mutter of ' 'fternoon' echoed around the class.

"That won't do now will it?" she said in sugary disaproval. "You reply: "Good afternoon Professor Umbridge" please. Now. Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon Professor Umbridge," we chanted back reluctantly.

"Good," she smiled. "Wands away, quills out please."

A groan of impending boredom ran through the class and Umbridge decided to ignore it.

"Now, as you well know this year is going to be your 'OWLs' year and you will be pleased to know that you will be following a carefuly structured, theory-centerd, ministry-approved curriculum that will hopefully rectify your rather disrupted teaching in this subject. Now, if you will kindly get out your copies of Defensive Magical Theory and start reading at chapter one, Basics for beginners." she instructed.

I flipped open to the first page, glancing at the synopsis I raised my hand patiently. Silent anger bubbling inside of me.

"Questions can wait until the end of class," Umbridge dismissed.

"Excuse me," I ignored her. "But, there's nothing in here about _using_ magic."

"Well Miss--"

"Hermionie Granger."

"Miss Granger, I don't know why you would _need_ to use defensive spells," she said. "Why would anyone want to attack children like yourselves? And besides you are quite safe here, in Hogwarts."

There was a short silence as a wave of outrage spread through the classroom.

She ploughed on. "You will be learning in a secure, risk free invironment and--"

"What use is that!" Harry exclaimed "If we're going to be attacked -"

"Students will raise their hands if they wish to talk during a lesson!" Umbridge snapped.

I placed a calming hand on Harry's arm. It was so important that he didn;t loose his cool during this lesson. He had to remain the better opponent and not stoop to her level, he had to make people see his as calm and collected yet still insistant on what happened back at the graveyard. It's the best way (for now) to make people see. Harry shoved his hand in the air and Umbridge primly turned her back on him. I could feel him shake with anger.

"Now, listen," she breathed. "You have been led by my predecessors to believe that there is a dark wizard waiting around every corner to attack you, this isn't true. You have been exposed to some very nasty and complex spells, far too inappropriate for your age group. Not to mention you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards and not to mention dangerous half-breeds."

"If you're talking about Lupin -" Ron shouted.

"_Hand_!" Umbridge interrupted and Ron's hand shot into the air only to be ignored. This was becoming faintly ridiculess.

"You will have gained the necessary skills that are needed in order for you to pass your OWL examinations," she smiled toothily. "And that, after all, is what school is all about."

"But what about what's waiting out there!?" Harry sormed. I inwardly cringed, no Harry, stay calm.

"There is nothing waiting _out there_ Mr Potter," Umbridge said sweetly, but sternly.

"Oh, consider Lord Voldemort?"

A ripple of mixed gasps of shock and snickers of disbeleif ran through the classroom. I smacked my hand to my forhead. This. Was. The. Last. Thing. We. Needed.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter," Umbridge snapped. "You have been lead to beleive that a certain dark wizard is back from the dead. I can assure you all right now that _this is a lie_."

"It's not a lie, I saw him, I fought him!"

"Detention, Potter! Tomorrow evening, five o'clock, my office." Umbridge commanded. "Now, everyone, resume reading."

I glanced down at the book of useless drivel that we where expected to study, but Harry got to his feet, glaring at Umbridge. I tugged at his sleeve, trying to get him to sit down. He took a deep breath, seemingly steadying himself.

"So...Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?" Harry's voice was forced strong.

Umbridge glared up at him, all traces of sugary-sweet pretense vanished. "Tragic accident." she dismissed Harry's arguement.

"It was murder! You're lying!" Harry protested. He looked so, so angry.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," Umbridge said dangerously, holding out a pink peice of sealed parchment to him

Harry snached it out of her hand and strode out of the classroom, kicking over a chair in defiance as he went.

_Harry POV:_

My burst of energy lasted me until I had rounded the corner of the first corridor, then I collapsed. Curling in on myself I hugged my knees to my chest as I sunk down against a wall and swallowed the sobs threatening to burst from my chest. I rocked myself into silence, gnawing on my lip so I wouldn't make a sound. Eventually, I stood up and ran a hand through my hair and a quick cleaning spell over my face and walked off towards McGonagall's office, rapping sharply on the door.

"I've been sent to see you," I said.

"Sent? What do you mean, sent?" In reply, I handed her the letter which she read quickly. "Well, is this true. You shouted at professor Umbridge? You called her a lair? You told her that he who must not be named is back?" I nodded in affermation to each of her questions. "Potter, she's given you detention every night this week."

"What? Couldn't you--?" I didn't bother trying, she was already shaking her head.

"I'm sorry Potter, but there's nohing I can do," She did sound truly sorry. "You need to remember to tread carefuly around Umbridge, remember to whom she reports. Learn to keep your temper under control, I suggest that you listen more to what Miss Granger has to say - no doubt she'll be able to talk some sense into you."

And with that she dismissed me from her office, leaving me in the empty corridors to face all the rage I had inside me. I need to do something with all this energy! My body ached from holding all the anger in, my shoulders tense from it, my grinding jaw. I massaged my forehead with my hand and decided to head back to the common room until the lesson finished.

* * *

I spent the rest of the day exhausted and miserable, and with a mass of homework to get through. But, in a way, I was sort of please to have something to do, something to keep me busy.

I settled down on one of the large armchairs in the fire-warm common room and set about starting some of my many essays, which I got through in record time. Smiling to myself I picked up the next book in my pile. I frowned.

"Hey, Ron!" I called. "You get one of these?" I held up the book for him.

"Oh, yeah," he nodded. "It's Trelawney's idea of homework. But she said she wouldn't be checking them, so I wouldn't bother mate."

I smiled, looking back at the book. _Dream Diary_. And if she wouldn't be checking them then what would be the harm in keeping it. Perhaps it would be good for me...I bade everyone a goodnight and padded upstairs to bed, tucking the _Dream Diary_ into a pile of unorganised papers I had on my bedside table. I'd find somewhere safer for it once I started to write in it.

That night I sleapt fitfuly, awaking every few hours dreanched in sweat, images of Voldemort, of Cedric, of everything still flashing real behind my eyes. How cruel it was that Cedric was now a thing that featured mostly in my nightmares, not that I really had any other type of dream, but still, a nice parting memory would've been nice. I sighed. One time when I woke up and I swear I could still feel that knife digging into my skin. My blood so Voldemort could live.

I missed breakfast and had to hurry to get ready in the morning. My bones where aching.


	7. Detention

_HarryPOV:_

It was such a long day, the teachers we not cutting us any slack and I had had bareley eneough time to eat by the time I was making my way down the corridors at five o'clock to Umbridges office, McGonagall's words ringing clear in my mind. Stay calm. I rubbed my forehead easily, so much for staying calm, I was parctically asleep, I was beyond calm. Nonetheless, I took a deep breath and rapped on the door before I could think about just skipping detention.

"Come in!" called Umbridge.

I entered cautiously, my eyes trying to take in every detail. The walls were covered in a garish pink and littered with sickly pictures of the ugliest cats I'd ever seen. I thought back to the sweet days when Lupin occupied this very room: the conversations I'd had with him, the things I'd discovered, all the interesting artifacts he owned. It was all so...interesting then. Now with it's pink walls, and pink furniture, and pink woman it just looked like some scene out of a psycho-horror. One where the sweet little angel turns out to be the murderous satanist - I could deffinately see Umbridge in that role. It would suit her far more than this one, as a DADA teacher, ever could.

"Good evening Mr Potter, sit down," she motioned to a (surprisingly) pink, straight-backed chair with a desk draped in a (you guessed it) pink cloth with a peice of blank parchment laid out for me. "Potter, this is what you get for spreading evil, nasty, attention seeking stories."

I felt the blood rush through me as I shakily sat down, fighting hard to keep my cool, staring right into her disgusting, evil, bulging eyes. I will be the better of us.

"I'm going to have you writing some lines for me today, Potter. No, not with your quill," I stopped rummaging in my bag. "You're going to be using a rather special one of mine."

She smiled sweetly, handing over a long, thin black quill that shone almost metallic silver in the light, with an unusually sharp point.

"Write: _I must not tell lies._" she instructed softly. "You won't be needing ink."

I nodded in my best impression of politeness. "How many times?"

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to _sink in_," I swear I head a small laugh in her voice.

I ignored her annoying cryptic message, whatever it meant and wrote _I must not tell lies_. Immediately pain flared up in my hand and I saw the words slowly scratch themselves into my skin and then fade, leaving it slightly raw. Inside my head Cedric's voice started to shout _No! Get out, Harry! Please, go! Tell Dumbledor, or Hermione, or someone! This isn't right!_ Oh, Cedric, I'm so sorry.

_I must not tell lies. _Intake of breath and I'm fine, don't show weakness.

_I must not tell lies._ Shit, on the parchment; it's writing in my blood!

_I must not tell lies._ It's still healing fine, I'm alright.

_I must not tell lies._ Pain gives me adrenilin.

_I must not tell lies._ Adrenilin gives me a chace to get away.

_I must not tell lies._ Natural highs.

_I must not tell lies._ Shit, Harry, don't think like that.

_I must not tell lies._ He ugly face, trying to stare me down.

After what seemed like hours she wondered over to the desk and grabbed my hand, it was all I could do not to scream in pain as her clumsy, stubby fingers pressed onto the still-cloasing wound.

"Anything the matter, dear?" she simpered upon seeing my pained expression.

"No, nothing, nothing at all," I forced out.

"That's right," she said almost sympatheticly. "Because deep down inside, you know, you deserve to be punished."

That felt like she was twisting a knife into my stomach. Cedric's words echoed back to me from our first night together, in that Prefects' Bathroom. _Bad boys deserve to be punished._ I felt like scrawling with that dreaded quill untill my hand was draining onto this could floor, so everyone could see how much my heart was breaking.

"We don't seem to have made much of an impression yet," Umbridge said with a smile, she was twisting the knife in deeper, severing my intestines. She fucking knew it. "We'll try again tomorrow evening."

I felt like throwing up. I had another week of this sick torture to get through. What was I doing? I grabbed my bag and sprinted out of the classroom and didn't stop running until I was near the Gryffindor dorms. You can't think when you run. I tryed to compose myself as I entered the dorms, checking my watch it was just past eleven o'clock so most people should be in bed. A small mercy.

I stepped silently through the portrait hole and, thankfuly, the common room was empty, safe for a few sleeping, over-studied seventh years. I ran straight up to the bathroom and tried re-applying my glamour charm. Over and over again, I tried stronger charms, stronger than I would ever need to cover my usualy scars. But the ugly mark on my hand just wouldn't fade. It's enchanted, I guessed. Because it was made with magic, it can't be hidden with magic, which explains why my lightning-scar never fades.

I glared once more at my hand. The skin was raised, and if you looked closely you could see the damned awful words engraved into the surface. But they wheren't so clear yet, and, to be honest, for now it just looked like a really bad irritation. Like I'd been bitten by some bugs or something. So for tomorrow, it would be fine, I'd have to find something to cover it up with after the next detention though. I shuddered at the thought.

Whatever I did, I couldn't let her win. I would suffer this to the end of the world - until I scratched all the way through my hand if it could convince Umbridge of my sincerity. That darling Cedric's death was no mere accident and they had to catch, _hunt_, the killer. Voldemort. If Umbridge can see that I can take that torture without cracking, perhaps she'll crack? ...One of us has to eventually.

_Dream Diary #1:_

_I was talking with Cedric in his beautiful front room. It was so real, but then the colours drained from the image, turning it greyscale. But the grey began to glint silver and metallic and sharp and the edges of the room peeled away and wrapped themselves around me, trapping me in a cocoon of sharp. Cedric's voice still talking calmly as ever in the background. It's not fair._

* * *

The second detention was even worse - the cuts where slowly getting deeper and not healing over a quickly. Soon disguising them would be a real problem. But I wouldn't stop, despited the constant reverberation of Cedric's shouts at me to stop. I just wouldn't listen. Because what he won't understand is that by doing this, silently and without complaint, I'm defending him, defending his death - his murder. And I couldn't defend him well eneough while he was alive...

This pain I was feeling was fixing everything, all the dreams in which I could've saved Cedric, all those times people called me insane for insisting that Voldemort had returned. Soon they would see. And, besides, red suited me, and it did look very pretty dotted across that page of _I must not tell lies_...I shouldn't be thinking like that! Cedric would expect so much more, he would want me to be stronger, not give in to the healing power of the pain. Because it realy does clear your head: all the foggy, unclear thoughts drift away; and you're leaft with the raw, strong, so very human emotion. That's all that's important. It's all that matters.

By the end of the thrid detention the cuts where deep and I had to use a bandage to hide them. If anyone asks, I sprained my wrist and it's not worth going to see Madame Pomfrey about it because it should be better in a few days. Well, that's what I told Hermionie when she asked, I need to come up with a better excuse soon...

Fourth and final detention and the cuts ache and throb. But, still, not a sound of protest escapes my lips, I remain silent because that's why I'm there: to prove that I truly _know_ that Voldemort is back. They have to believe me.

"You are dismissed," Umbridge finally smirks, waving me away.

I glare over my shoulder at her, red pulsing through my vision. All I want is to see more of it - more red, more red, more red. I run from her office and get half way back to the common room until I slow to a walk. What's happening to me? Why am I thinking like this? All these years of taking shit from the Dursleys and I've been fine, after Cedric died I took extra care of myself so that I wouldn't fall into a trap like this. Then I get a few detentions and I'm losing the plot. I need to pull myself together.

The cuts, although disgusting and wrong, they felt so...good. God, it feels ugly just to think something like that. But it's true as much as I hate to admit it. There's a release hidden in that violece...and that type of violence is okay. I mean, it's not like I'm hurting anyone, and it's not like I'm really hurting myself that much either. Which is almost true. This is so fucked up.

On the last leg of the walk back to the common room I made a point to glare at everything that glinted in the light. Why did it all have to look so...sharp?

_Dream Diary #2:_

_Not dream tonight - only dark. Only black._

* * *

_ThirdPOV:_

"You understand how important this job is, don't you?" long, black robes sweapt across the floor.

"Yes, I understand perfectly," cold, stern faces. "I can do this."

"You will report back twice a week with your findings," the torches crackled in their brackets on the walls.

"Yes. Please, trust me." insistant and emploring.

"Let the boy have his fun, it won't falter our progress that much," the voice that commanded all others had spoken and all the arguements died instantly.

They bowed and exited in sweeps of rich blacks and greens. Marks of pureblood royalty.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you everyone whose been following this story =] ...sorry I'm so evil to Harry! **

**Please review/fave/alert/etc ... thanks!**

**xxx**


	8. The Descent

**A/N: Thank you for the lovely, loveley reviews :D totally made my day! Endless supplies of (imaginary) cookies for you all! 3**

**Enjoy! (well as much as you can enjoy sad!Harry) xxx**

**Warning: Self harm and gore in this chapter.**

* * *

_HarryPOV:_

"Harry, why don't you just go see Madame Pomfrey about that hand?" Hermionie's bright voice broke through my haze of thoughts.

"Hmm?" I looked up from my toast. "Oh, Hermioner, relax. It's all the essay's I've been writing that's killing it. Seriously, I dosen't hurt and it's not that much of a bother, I spend way to much time in the Medical Wing as it is, I'm sure she's sick of the sight of me!" I laughed.

"Just, don't strain it too much," she cautioned.

"Is this Hermionie telling me to do _less_ writing?" I joked.

"Ah! Do mine ears decieve me!?" Ron laughed.

"Hurmph!" was the only sound Hermionie made as she went back to eating her breakfast.

The days pass by in a whirlwind of poor excuses and tatty lies now. They taste of the same bitter redundancy. The scars from Umbridge's quill are starting to fade but I think there'll always be a mark there and no glamour I can find can hide it. I think though, that when the swelling's gone down a bit, I'll use some muggle make-up to cloak the mark. Hopefuly it'll work.

But, although the physical signs may fade and all together disappear, there is something new and alien inside my mind. It feels so, so wrong - I don't even have the words to describe it. I feel filthy, disgusting all the time because all I see now is the potential damage an object can cause. And not only damage to myself, but damage to others; walking around the library with Hermionie the other day I was overcome with the thoughts of what it would look like if a bookcase actually squashed someone...all the blood and splintered bone, it would be such a mess, or not so messy if the bookcase fell slowly, gradually suffocating it's victim. Needless to say, I got out of there pretty quick.

I feel so weak, all these years of battling dark forces and the Dark Lord himself, and at the end of it all it is a frumpy old woman armed with a slightly painful quill that broke me. How pathetic? I spend so much time in the shower now: trying to wash the invisible grime off of my skin, until it's red raw. Trying to purge myself of whatever it is that has implanted itself in my brain. But this time I was trying to clean myself of the small pain of lying to my friends.

I climbed out of the shower, my skin tingling from the harsh, hot spray. In the mirror, my body looks limp and useless, it belongs to someone who dosen't give a shit - and I hate it. I hate my reflection lokking back at me, I don't care how cliche that must sound, but I truly feel it. A deep-seated desire to destroy everything that I am, because I'm useless, just like the boy in the mirror staring at me, I can't protect myself, I can't protect my lover, what sliver of a chance do I have in saving the world? None at all.

I placed my hand gently on the condesation covered glass, wishing to pass through into that world where, although I was still useless, I would be alone in being useless and I wouldn't have to face anyone about anything. But I slowly realised that as much as I wanted to, I simply couldn't change my situation and switch to the cold, distant world of the mirror. My mind whent blank: my vision litteraly faded to black, my body pumped rage through my veins and all the madness I'd been trying to supress overwhelmed and swallowed me.I began to choke on it and in a desperate bid for survival I lashed out with my fist and hit the mirror hard. I felt nothing so I hit it again. And again, and again, and again, until I had exhausted all of the madness in my blood and I was sat shaking on the cold, floor of the bathroom letting reality slowly return to me.

And, boy, did I feel it. All too soon I was aware of what I'd done, pain flooded me as I glanced down at my battered hands. The skin there was mosaiced with shards of mirror that still stuck out from the mess of dried and flowing blood, and deformed skin. I tried to flex my fingers slowly and a wave of pain flooded through me, I gasped to stop the scream and gave up trying to move my hands. I was vaugely aware of all the blood around me: splattered on the shattered mirror and pooling on the floor, sticking to my legs. I had to sort it out, and quickly, or people would get suspicious.

I decided to work out the larger pieces of mirror first. I grabbed a random shard and slowly pulled it out, relishing in every shock of pain it sent through me. Another one I felt snag on the skin so I had to tear, and the pain was undescribable. As new blood vessels burst and the warm, red liquid trickled out of my hand I felt all my anxiety evaporate from me. I felt so free. I slid a few more out and there was something new inside my head - Cedric's voice yelling, screaming at me to stop. He was becoming my voice of reason, which I was learning to ignore.

"I'm so s-sorry, Cedric," I whispered as I pulled out another shard.

The pieces of mirror embedded in my hand where gradually getting smaller and with it the sensation of blinding agony lessened and with each pull I felt more and more detached from myself. It eventually felt like I was watching some sort of horrific film noir and all I could do was silently will the actor on stage to change what he was doing, to go back. But I was that actor and there was no way I was returning from this. This high. This high that people go their whole lives without expirencing. They live in their little bubbles of safety, never concerning themselves with the raw reality of the world. And the raw reality was that the world was cruel and harsh, and that worse still you had to become cruel and harsh to flourish in it.

That was exactly what I was doing. I wasn't self distructing, or harming myself. No, I was emancipating myself from all the suffering I'd endured. Pain is what causes the suffering, if I can stop feeling pain I can stop feeling the suffering, and better still, if I could learn to control pain itself I would control the suffering. I was enlightened. And I didn't give a damn what they would say.

By now I was down to the last few splinters, I decided to use magic to pull these last ones out with magic. I flicked my wand and the last of the silver flew off of my body in one last searing shot of blinding pain. I gasped and regained control of myself. I flicked my wand again and the mirror begain to rebuild itself, and again to make all the blood start to dissapear from the tiles and from my body. Once the bathroom was spotless again I turned my attention to my hands. Another flick of my wand and the skin started to knit itself back together, once it was done there where painful, gruesome-looking, raised scars which would fade a little in time but there would always be at least a shadow of them there. But I think I sort of like the idea of that, a little reminder of the monster that I can be.

I calmly got dressed into my pyjamas, reapplied the glamour spell took one last sweeping check of the bathroom and exited into the Gryffindor boys' dorm. I climbed into bed, glad not to encounter anyone else, and flexed my sore hands. Tonight's sleep would be plauged by nightmares I'm sure, a little revenge from my mind for subjecting it to...to what happened. But it was worth it. Worth everything just to feel again.

_Dream Diary #3:_

_Someone I can't see but who has very strong, soft hands is holding me down. Above me there is a mirror hanging and I see multiple cuts appearing on my body from invisible knives. Just small cuts but suddenly I feel a great stabbing pain in my abdomen, I can't bring myself to look, but I feel blood pool in my mouth and I start to drown in it._

* * *

_DracoPOV:_

Sat at the breakfast table, I really need a weekend. Oh well, Thursday morning now, just one more morning and I'm done. I pour myself some pumpkin juice (my mouth is still a little too dry to eat) and sip it slowly, feeling the life return to my sleepy body. I run a hand through my hair and glance around the hall curiously, staring at the other tired students tricking in for breakfast.

My eyes sweep over the Hufflepuff table, the Gryffindor table and - God, Potter looks like shit. I mean, I know he usually looks a mess, but it's usually a sort of devil-may-care-fuck-what-you-think mess. Now he just looks sick, not ill, _sick_. What the fuck has he been doing? Looks like he hasn't slept in days, his hair's growing out, he so anxious and suspicious of everyone, like they all just want to attack him, and he moves with an odd stiffness. Like his muscles are cramped up or something, whatever it is, it looks painful. What's happened to him?

Or maybe nothing's happened and he's just attention seeking like always. I'd thought he might have changed after what happened with Diggory in the summer, he seemed so humbled and genuine after that. He didn't try and shout and scream about 'losing his one true love' or whatever it may have been...he just sat there and dealt with it so honestly. But now, with all this arguing with Umbridge and making a scene whenever anyone mentions Diggory's name. Perhaps some thing never change.

Harry caught my glare from across the room and I smirked as he withered under it. Bloody attention whore and he shies away from a mere glare from me. Pathetic. Absolutely fucking useless.

* * *

**A/N: Ahhhh! I know, I know, I'm so cruel to our lovely, lovely boys -_-***

**¬_¬ don't hate the author, I am but a slave to the power that is my fangirl brain ¬_¬**

**Leave some love? xxx**


	9. Prefects' Bathroom

**A/N: Hey, sorry all these chapters are taking so long going up -_- it's just that I wanna get them all perfect (or close to perfect) and sometimes I change a little thing in one chapter, then it has a knock-on effect on loads of other parts of the story and I gotta rework the plot etc. I also have many other excuses, but I'm saving them for someone who'll believe me :P Anyway, I realy wanna do a good job with this story, it's evolved from so little ^_^ so I'm gonna take my time with the updates, hopefully will all be worth it! =3**

**Also, if it's any consulation, this chapter is the longest in this story so far...happies, anyone? lol**

**Thank you all for being so lovely and sugary :D**

**Enjoy! xxx**

* * *

_HermioniePOV:_

There was definitely something wrong with Harry. He wasn't talking at all, and I know he wasn't always as eloquent with his thoughts and feelings as most of us. But this was way too much. There was something bad happening to my friend, something the neither Ron or me could help with. I wouldn't mind so much if I knew he was talking to someone, even if that someone wasn't me, but I knew that he wasn't (I may have done some spying), he wasn't talking to anyone.

He seems so withdrawn, and this late in the year - it's fast approaching Christmas and usually his post-Dursley's sadness only lasts for a few weeks. I know that this time it's bound to be different what with everything that's been happening to him, but usually he discusses his problems with us. Unless all this time he hasn't been talking truthfully with us, unless all this time he's been hiding something from us. Then that changes everything I guess.

I don't even know where to begin with him, it's like he's built an impenetrable fortress around himself, I don't know any honest way to get through to him. Obviously I've considered veritiserum, but he'd never forgive me. He'd hate me, but I might have to do it. If he gets much more withdrawn and moody then it might be the best option. I've searched all through the library for methods on getting the truth out of somebody, gentle and subtle methods, but I've kept drawing blanks. The closest I've gotten to an untraceable way of getting into his mind is occulmency. But that takes years to master, years that I just don't have.

* * *

_HarryPOV:_

Now I finally know what true emancipation is. I thought I felt release before. Whatever that was, it wasn't release, a mere illusion of it. Everyone goes about their lives innocent and insignificant. They don't know what true feeling is. They don't understand the liberation, the overwhelming honesty of bleeding on the bathroom floor. How can they continue to lie to themselves? How is it that they believe that they have a reason to live? I felt like destroying it all, ripping the bricks of this building and the bones of their bodies to the ground. Not to kill, or maim or murder. Only to give them something to rebuild, to give them a reason to live. Allow them all to see terrible destruction, things that could bring the world to it's knees and liquefy even the most brilliant of minds, and then hand them the tools to carry on. To do more than just exist.

I went to visit Dobby the other day and whilst I was there I stole a small knife. I'm becoming quite the plotting liar, quite the slytherin just as was predicted by the sorting hat. I wonder if he saw all this. Anyway, now I don't shout, or answer back or even get angry when someone calls me a liar, when Umbridge denies it all, when I'm told I'm insane. Now, I just get a cold sweat and I feel the subtle tones of silver blade lick over me, and then the comforting red warmth of blood.

Every night I tick them off. One for the kid who laughed at my disheveled appearance. One for the prophet headline. One for each article of gossip. One for the textbook lessons we are made to sit. And by the end of the night I'm shaking and weak, but come morning my limbs are aching and sore. Each movement pulls on the semi-formed skin, but I feel stronger for it. I can cope with all this silently, I have mastered fear and pain. I am invincible now. Weaker than I've ever been, but fucking unstoppable.

With the glamor charm removed my body looks a mess. There's no two ways about it - the cuts as they heal swell and some have bruised and ugly purple shade, only highlighted by my paler-than-usual skin because of the blood loss. I'm careful with where I place the cuts though, there's method in the madness, all up the back of my thighs, my hips and my back, that's where I figured it's safest to cut because even if something happens to the glamor, it won't be too noticeable. The scar from Umbridges quill has faded a lot, now it's just a faint outline of words that you can only see it you're really looking for them. So finally I'm able to get rid of the bandage, hopefully averting some of Hermionie's well-placed suspicion now that my 'cramped hand' has healed. She'll stop nagging me to got to the infirmary.

I feel more alone than ever right now. Cedric is so angry with me, and he's frustrated, I can feel it all the time, searing through my veins. He wants me to stop, but if I stopped surely there'd be nothing left of me? This is the one thing stitching me together, the irony is that it's also pulling me apart. I try to reason with him inside my mind, and when that doesn't work I scream back at him, and when that fails I ignore him, telling myself that he's just in my imagination now. But at night when I'm aching all is forgiven and I can almost feel a ghost of him holding me through all the pain. I think he still loves me despite all the shit that I've done.

But it's not enough to conquer the all-encompassing loneliness. I need more of him. I need to feel him solid, and with me. So I decided to return to where I first felt him at his strongest. And I mean _him_, not the Cedric my flailing mind has created to fill the ragged hole Voldemort tore when he took Cedric away from me. I first truly felt him in the Prefects' Bathroom on the fifth floor.

And so, that evening I made my polite excuses and went to the fifth floor, my stomach doing flips in excitement and apprehension just like that night almost a year ago now. Gosh, it has been almost a year since...I couldn't let my mind go down that path, I'd start reminiscing about things that never happened. Tonight would be about now and nothing else, how to cope with the present..

I took a deep breath before pushing open the heavy, wooden door, once inside I glanced around the room, no one was there. Finally, I turned to face that large bathtub that we met in all those months ago. I don't know what I expected, some sort of revelation of his ghostly form? But whatever I'd hoped for it didn't happen, but I could feel him. Strangely, my memories of him where stronger here, far more physical. But the blatant truth that there was nothing physical left of him anymore made the aching loneliness more acute than ever.

I stripped quickly and slid into the hot, soapy water. It instantly calmed me, I felt serene for a change as I lifted off the glamor, reveling in the feeling of my true skin. The battered skin on my back slid uncomfortably against the tiles and I winced. I wasn't prepared for that pain. I got up and waded through the waist-high water to the taps in the center of the bath and took some childish delight in playing with the scents and colours.

Tears slid almost unnoticed down my face as I begun to reminisce about that night with Cedric and drift off into my own world and almost absentmindedly picked up my wand. I thought about all the funny little faces he used to make when I startled him, or did something clumsy and began to trace small patterns with my wand upon my skin, and where the wand traveled it left little tears in my skin, small streams of blood in whatever pattern I was tracing. I found myself relaxing more and more into the memories, smiling as the cuts on my skin became more and more detailed. I didn't even notice I was doing it. Barely even felt the cuts.

But eventually I had to leave my memories behind and I glanced down at my bleeding chest. Instantly my sobs started to choke me - I thought I was making pretty pictures in skin, but it's all just a lovely, ugly, brutal mess. I laughed at the irony, the twisted humor in turning beauty into the beast just by opening my eyes sickened me more than the physical cuts themselves. My chest heaving with great sobs of laughter I climbed out of the bathtub.

* * *

_DracoPOV:_

Thank fuck I know the best places to go to relax. Yes, one of the Great Malfoy Secrets: when homework is getting you down, you've got to go to one of the more private bathrooms to truly drift away from it all and be alone. So, one freezing, miserable evening I headed to the prefects' bathroom I knew about, the one that was barely ever used because it was tucked away in a corner of the fifth floor. Which was convenient for me.

The bathroom was empty when I entered, so I dumped my stuff in a corner of the room and decided to go for a quick piss. After all, I was in no hurry to leave my little quiet sanctuary. While I was in the cubicle I heard the bathroom door slam open and impatient footsteps enter. I groaned quietly to myself, if I was lucky it was just some second year trying his luck at being a rebel and I could frighten him away pretty quickly.

I peeked quietly around a stone pillar and my eyes went wide with shock. Harry's body was beautiful. As much as I hated to admit to myself my growing fascination with the retreating, mysterious Harry, his tragic sexuality drew me to him in a way that I couldn't even begin to fathom an explanation to. I stifled a gasp though, as he turned to catch the torch-light, he waved his wand over his body and a faint golden shimmer appeared around him for a moment, vanishing and leaving the room feeling colder for its absence.

"Shit," I breathed.

It was all I could do not to scream and shout and...do something. His body, his skin was decaying. It looked sickening in the half-light, like a bizarre case of necrosis. Why wasn't he getting help for this? I closed my eyes from the horror and leaned my head back against the stone pillar for support. My breaths came raggedly, what the hell was happening to Potter?

My eyes where drawn back to the large bath by an odd sound. Harry was crying softly and I could hear a faint scraping noise. He was bleeding openly now, blood seeping from his chest and diluting in the water. Looking closer I saw he was running his wand across his chest, healing the wounds perhaps? No, I bit down on my lip again to stop myself from making a sound. He was making the cuts. He was making himself bleed.

Surely no one knew about this? Ha, their fucking Golden Boy doing shit like this...I bet the thought never crossed their minds. But, it never crossed my mind ether. I thought with guilt of all the times I'd picked on him, I thought of Umbridge recently and all the pressure from the Daily Prophet, the death of his boyfriend - I wonder what it was that pushed him to this. As soon as the question entered my mind I knew with a sinking feeling that I needed the answer. But I had to be careful and discreet about this one, and who knows, with Potter in the fucked up state that he's in, maybe something will actually come out of my...efforts towards him.

I watched from the shadows as he climbed out, dripping from the soapy water. I felt new waves of disgust at the marks covering his body now that I knew the source of them. He winced as he dressed, the fabric catching on the flaky flesh and sticking to the still-wet blood coating his torso. He calmly stalked up to a mirror on the wall and anxiously carded a hand through his hair, seemingly trying to fix its messy state.

His worrying hands became more and more flustered, soon he was tugging awkwardly at his clothes, trying to smooth them, adjust them. Suddenly he stopped his fluttering hands and they fisted at his sides. Looking deep into the mirror he screamed at it.

"WHY AREN'T YOU HERE!?" his voice cracked in anguish and he blindly raised one of his fists and slammed it to the mirror. I clasped both my hands over my mouth so I couldn't make a sound, wouldn't move.

He fell to the floor with the impact and I saw the shattered mirror fall with him. He sat up on the floor, legs tucked in close to him chest, his bloodied hand picking at the broken mirror pieces on the ground. Over and over again he murmured those words feverishly - "Why aren't you here?" Who's he talking to? Who's he talking about? Potter to me now was one big, unanswered question. I wanted to know every working of his mind, but if I where to make a move at that moment, he would panic and run. As painful and disturbing as it was, I would have to wait this one out in absolute silence.

He murmurs some more words, they sound like apologies this time. He raises his wand and with one fluid swish and flick the shards fly out of his hand all at once. His strangled scream seemed to drain the room of all life, of all hope, everything that that scream of pure, animal, agony became a hollow shell. A few more hurried spells and the mirror is clean and fixed, and he is clean and (looks) fixed. Glancing around the room his eyes widened in shock as he looked towards the bath tub. For a moment I thought he saw me, I held my breath and stayed statue-still like marble as he skitted towards where I was hiding. I heard the scourgify charm leave his lips and breathed, relaxing slightly. He had cleaned the bath of his blood, that was all.

I closed my eyes until I heard the door slam behind him. When I was able to stand I walked shakily over to the mirror that I had seen Harry smash. I ran my fingers over the cold surface. I shuddered at the thought of all that blood and destruction, this place reeked of it I decided. Feeling the events of the evening begin to catch up with me, I hurried out of the door and towards the Slytherin dorms before I could make any stupid decisions.


	10. Our Passage

**A/N: Re: super-angst. I hereby promise ye faithful readers that the leavels of angsty will start to go down. Bear with me on this! ^_^ **

**Sorry again for shitty update time. Had massive boyfriend trouble + had to distract myself from anything that remotely mattered for a while. Forgiven?**

**xxx**

* * *

_RonPOV:_

Yeah, perhaps friends shouldn't spy on friends, but Hermione's concern for Harry has been rubbing off on me, and I needed to make sure he was ok. I'd been noticing that he'd been coming up to the dorms late, spending way too much time alone and was getting quieter. Last night though, I was really worried. It was fast approaching midnight before he stumbled in - he didn't smell like he'd been drinking (but I feel like I barely know him now, so I wouldn't put it past him), but he was wobbly on his feet and looked so sick. His skin was unhealthily pale, and his lips where cracked a little, perhaps from dehydration. I don't know, I'm no medi-wizard, but I know that Hermione's right: this can't go on.

So the next day I found him. He was sat on the window-seat in the dorms, it was perhaps an hour and a half before dinner and the sun was just disappearing. He must've been cold sat like that, with only the glass between him and the harsh winter outside, but he didn't seem to feel it.

"Hey Harry," I smiled, taking a seat cross-legged on the bed next to the window.

"Hi, Ron," Harry's voice cracked slightly from disuse. We sat in silence for a few seconds.

"Harry...are you okay?" I asked, it sounded stupid and oversensitive out loud. I meant it to sound casual.

He turned to look at me. "You've been listening to Hermione too much."

"Yes," I admitted. "But I also think she may have a point. You are okay, aren't you?" Well, I already looked like enough of a fool, might as well throw in some extra concern for Harry while I was at it.

"These last few months have been tough on me..." he stared absentmindedly out of the window again. "You...I doubt you'd understand."

"Then help me to."

"I don't think I can..."

"Is it Hermione and me going together?"

"No, Ron," he smiled, a little melancholy. "I'm happy for you, honestly I am. But I can't explain this, there's far too much hanging in the balance."

"You're not making any sense..."

"Ron, we are the fragile threads that make up this ball gown. We each rely on one another to keep the beautiful dress from falling apart. We all need to know that we can rely on the other threads, that if we rip then they'll be there for us until we get fixed. And the piece of thread that holds the knot is starting to fray and unravel, but so long as the other threads don't know they can keep the dress together, for one more dance..." he sighed. "You can't understand."

I stared at him, transfixed. Harry was going completely insane. How do you react to something like this? He makes no sense.

"HARRY!" I'm shocked at my sudden outburst, his eyes lazily flicker up to meet mine, like he was expecting shouting. "I need you to tell me if you're okay."

"Drop it."

"Why won't you just answer the question!?" I was getting desperate.

"I did." he snapped.

"That riddle made no sense to anyone but yourself Harry! Are you alright? It's a simple question, just answer."

"I can't be any more clear than I was." Great, back to no-emotions-Harry.

"You know what I think?" he looked up curiously. "I think that you know you're a fuck-bad liar and so you won't even bother answering with all your fuck-bad lies."

I was practically seething with anger as I strode away, leaving a very disappointed-looking Harry on the window seat.

* * *

_HarryPOV:_

What an idiot! They're all idiots! If I'd have wanted their help, I would've asked for it, but as it was, I was handling without them. I can work it out.

But still, I was literaly fuming at their interfearence. I took off to storm around the almost-empty corridors whilst everyone was at dinner and glared hatefully at anyone who had the misfortune of passing me. I managed to walk off my rage quickly and stopped to think about what I wanted to do. I glanced at my surroundings, it was dim and dingy so I guessed I was getting close to the dungeons. Without my consent my feet began to move, and without any conscious decision on my part I was walking - and walking with direction. A few moments later my mind caught up with its self and I discovered I was walking to that hidden passageway in which Cedric and I spent so many hours.

I tried to stop myself, my body was still healing and suffering, it didn't need any more. But as I recognized the hallways, and the little details like cracks in the bricks, and small details in paintings of noble knights, it became harder and harder for me to turn around. And then I was there. I was standing, looking at that seemingly innocent cramped little space. I took a couple of steps inside and everything rushed back to me. The sights, sounds and smells flooded my senses.

I took a few, shaky steps forwards, my hands resting on the walls to keep myself upright. I breathed in and I could taste his laughter, exhaled and I could see the candle light reflecting off his hair.

I carefully lowered myself to the floor, leaning my back against the back wall, I let my neck relax and my head fall forwards. I was barely aware of any tears falling or stinging my eyes, I was far to immerse in the memories. At some I smiled (one or two even made me laugh), most reminded me of the little things he would do, the little things that made him him and made me love him. It felt like I was falling in love all over again and I was crying silently.

* * *

_DracoPOV:_

I am well aware that curiosity's a killer, but I was so curious about Potter. I had to know just what was going on inside his mind, all those years of hatred seem so wasted now, the petty arguments were pointless. He's changed now, and I was always acting out the parts that I needed to play. It could be like starting anew. So that's why I followed him that night. I had been having a great internal debate as to whether or not going full-stalker-rampage was the best way to play things, at the end of it I decided that I would follow him once, maybe twice and see where it goes.

This was my third time following him. It was an accident, I meant to go to dinner but then I spotted him - he looked angry and upset so I followed, perhaps it was my unfortunate sense of morbid curiosity, or my bizarre wish to re-encounter the macabre events of the other night, if only to assure to myself that they where real.

When I had caught up with him I found his shaking form huddled in the corner of a dimly-lit passageway that I would've missed if I hadn't been looking for hiding places. I watched, unsure of what to do with the sudden opportunity, his tears flowed silently down his face and I felt a strange urge to comfort him. Suddenly he sighed and after resting his head back on the wall for a brief moment (he seemed to be inhaling, bathing in something he found there in that passageway), he got unsteadily to his feet.

I held my breath as he passed my shitty hiding place (around the sharp corner of the passage), but he didn't notice me. Harry paused and looked, almost longingly, back into the passageway and then sadly turned his back on it. It was now or never. I didn't even think it through properly, I just stuck my arm out and gently took hold of his shoulder. He jumped at the sudden contact and I used his moment of unguarded surprise to back him into the passage again. I had to at least talk with him before he left. Once his initial shock had passed Harry looked calculating, but not angry, he seemed almost removed from the situation.

"What do you want Draco?" he said slowly, as if weighing up each word.

I paused, picking my words just as carefully. "I saw you the other night..." I hinted. I think he got the hint, he just wasn't giving anything away, so I dug slightly deeper. "I saw you in the bathroom..."

A flare of shock, confusion and panic flooded his shining eyes, only to be replaced in a flash by the calculating glare.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "Let me through." He pushed weakly at my barricading arms.

I wasn't letting him go anywhere until I'd at least gotten him to explain. I wanted to help. I wanted him, if I could only admit it to myself.

"Harry..." I murmured simply as I lent forwards slightly, backing him further into the passage.

His eyes where darting, no doubt wondering what to do, no doubt wondering what I would do. I lowered my voice and whispered simply "Finite Incantatem" and his glamor spell fell away. I leaned back slightly and it took his mind a few moments to catch up with what had just happened. He looked down and saw his bloodied hands, saw his brutal scars. He turned to me, tears brimming in his eyes and fear shining through them.

"Please," his voice shook. "Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"But why do you do this?" I asked, my curiosity taking shot gun.

"I - I, Cedric died. And all the rumors. And everyone wants so much. And I can't -" he cut himself off. "I sound pathetic."

"You've got a lot to deal with..." I allowed him. There was really only one thing I wanted to hear.

"I - I've changed so. Fucking. Much." and that was it. Those where the words I was counting on.

Those words, hearing that the Infamous Harry Potter had changed. He was now confused, tragicly beautiful. With tears overspilling his green, shining eyes, I wanted to have him so much, but I also wanted to save him at the same time. I was not the person he needed to be with if he needed saving. But I'm selfish, and he's far too giving for his own good.

"Please, keep this secret," he implored. "I'll do anything." He searched my eyes for signs of the plotting and scheming that I was so well known for.

Fuck, how I wanted him to do _anything_ for this secret. I wanted it so much.

"I'll keep your secret safe," was all I was planning on saying, but my mind wouldn't allow it. "But, I want your word that you will do anything."

He nodded. "I promise," he said with conviction. He must really want this secret kept.

I sighed, reluctant to let him go, but eager to keep his trust, I let my arms fall to my sides as he fleed the passageway.


	11. No Where Left

**A/N: So sorry for taking ages on this update. Had it ready for like two days and my brains been everywhere lately so i totally forgot to update -_- super sorry. If it's any consolation, this one is like 6kb longer than the last chapter, one or two of you said you wanted longer updates :P**

**xxx**

* * *

_HarryPOV:_

He has invaded everywhere that Cedric used to be. I feel almost like I can't trust even the memory of him - as if Draco will be lurking somewhere deep in the shadows of the room, or recesses of my mind, and when I go seeking the comfort that Cedric gives me he'll be there, tearing everything I am into shreds. And I do feel like he is internally ripping me apart - I want so much to accept whatever comfort he could give me, becuse he is the only person so far to have broken through my barricaded walls, and that has to stand for something. But he is _Draco Malfoy_ for fuck's sake! He's got to be planning something...or he just fabricated something to try and get to me, or fool me into trusting him. Draco Malfoy doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself, any slytherin guy or girl will tell you the same.

Whether he meant to or not he was getting to me, deep under my skin. I needed to find somewhere I could breath for a little while, somewhere to find complete peace and tranquility, if only for a few hours, so my mind could have a chance to wonder and muse and if I'm lucky, come to a decision.

In a fit of bright white inspiration I took off at a sprint, ignoring the curious looks people where giving me (no doubt they would soon get used to my erratic behavior). My legs and mind weren't communicating so, naturally I had no idea where I was taking myself. I knew it would be right though. It felt right. I followed my legs out through the grand castle doors and down towards the forest. Quickly, I found myself quite a way into the forest (I wasn't sure exactly how far, all I knew was that there where still vague outlines of paths on the ground and the greenery wasn't thick and overgrown). I sat myself down behind a small hedge and rested my back against a tree.

"Now what?" I asked aloud, searching for some sort of inspiration.

_Now,_ a small voice in my head replied, _now, you do what comes naturally to you_. I glanced around, my eyes purposefully skipping some details in my surroundings. But you can't hide from your own mind, I smiled sadly to myself. This was not clever, it would not get me anywhere - my hand reached out to grab several thorns off of the bush I'd sat behind. _Only it will_, I reassured myself, _just that slight degree of detachment, and you'll be able to think straight, and you know it. _Well, there was no use arguing with my own mind ether, so I went along.

I stuck one thorn into the flesh of my forearm, barely feeling it, but it still took the edge off of my distraction. I stuck in another and another, and more, some straying into more boney, painful areas and most staying in my safety-zone of fleshy skin. Before I knew it I had arranged a sort of pattern on my skin and was managing to focus more on the important things - like what to do about the blond bastard trailing after me - and I had cast away the annoying, little things - like human emotion. I smiled at the bloodied pattern in my skin and it smiled back.

I started to regrettably remove the thorns from my skin, figuring that I had been out long enough, and had managed to make a little headway into sorting out my mess of a life.

"What're you doing?" a clear, curious voice rang out from behind me.

I jumped a little and, having the sense to hide my wounded arm away, turned to face whoever was there. I was greeted with a frizzy shock of long, blonde hair atop a petite figure and radiant, if slightly distant, smile. Luna.

"I -uhh, nothing," I tried lamely, not even expecting it to work for an excuse.

She just nodded. "I'm out to feed the Thestrels, do you want to join me?"

"Um, yes. Yes, of course," I was a little shocked that she believed me, she can't do. "Hey, Luna - how long were you standing there?"

"Don't worry, Harry," was all she said before waltzing off to where I presume she was going to find the Thestrels.

Still dumbstruck and with nothing better to do I ripped the last few thorns from my skin and followed after her. She nattered on about nothing all the way there, and it was lovely and distracting. When all she was truly saying was just small talk, she said it as if she was reveling some great, unimaginable, wonderful secret. She made me feel happy to be a part of it. All too soon we found the Thestrels in an open clearing. They looked so frightful and ugly, but I saw, as Luna threw a piece of meat out to them, that they where very nervous and gentle creatures, and there was no reason to fear them.

I found comfort in Luna's acceptance of them. Outside they where vile, brutal creatures. But she was one of the few to be able to see the beauty inside the beast. I wondered if she could see the beauty deep inside me too. I could use a friend like that - someone who I could trust. Only problem is, I'm not sure if I _can_ trust her or not, I don't know what she saw earlier, and if she did see anything, if she would tell someone. I doubt she'd do it to spite me, but she seems so scatterbrained - it may just slip past her. I need to know that won't happen before I place any trust on this girl.

As we were with the Thestrels we talked, and gradually the topic of conversation became more meaningful. But Luna wouldn't shy away from subjects she knew would hurt me to talk about, yes she was kind and caring, but blunt and honest. It hurt, but as I'd learnt, I could deal with pain.

"No one believes me anyway, Luna, can we change the subject?" Still, the pain was exhausting.

"I believe you. Me and my father," she looked at me in earnest. "And we're not the only ones - you have to understand that. There is a whole underground of people who would be ready to fight."

"But, even if that's true, it's just like an underground organization," I sighed. "We'll all be too late..."

"You mustn't feel alone, Harry."

"Why?"

"Because if I wanted to destroy you, I'd want you to feel lonely. If you're alone, you're less of a threat."

I stared at her for a moment. From what deep corner of her mind she had managed to drag that from, I didn't know, but it felt so right and fitting for my situation. Was I just rolling over and letting Voldemort win by ostracizing myself?

"Well, it's working," I stared at the ground. "I feel more alone than ever."

"We all loose control sometimes," she smiled kindly.

I knew now that she knew. She knew about me. Me and the thorns. But, I also knew she wasn't going to tell anyone - yes, she was ditsy sometimes, but she knew what she was doing and how gently she had to cradle this secret. Because, the slightest slip and it would all shatter. But she understood. I started to walk back to the castle, turning around to say some sort of parting words with her but failing. Instead I smiled sadly, a gesture she returned with mirror emotions, if only with a tint of honest forgiveness.

I walked back in the gathering darkness with the feeling of trust somewhat heavy and strange, but all together nice. It felt so new.

Once I got inside the Gryffindor dorms, no one moved at my entrance, they all assumed I would strop off to brood in my window seat. Why didn't I notice this happening? And why did it suddenly hurt like hell? I went and sat down near the warmth of the fireplace, enjoying for the first time in a long time the feel of other people near me, the distant and primal reassurance of company. I guess this is baby steps...

* * *

_DracoPOV:_

What am I expecting to happen if I do go with Harry? Nothing massive would change, people would still be judgmental and I don't think it would change any inter-house companionship like people would expect. But, I really don't want inter-house companionship, or a loving, caring world. Right now, all I want is Harry. Harry here, right now, with his curious, second-guessing eyes and such an expressive face. It wouldn't change anything, but aren't I allowed to be at least a little selfish?

He has changed so much in my eyes, he's finally grown up to see this cold world for what it really is. He seems to have all but ditched his sad excuse for simpering friends - a good thing too, they were only holding him back, shielding him from the truth, but nothing could pull a blindfold over what that poor boy has seen in the last few months, in his whole life. I want to ask him what, exactly, he's seen. He definately isn't the same boy from previous years, he seems to have already changed so much these brief months since September. I want to poke and prod and discover all the new parts of him, I want to see what new shape he has become, and find out what parts of him are missing.

But he's so lost already, I'm scared that in my blind and unprofessional attempts to fix him (because, let's be honest, I'm usually the one trying to break people, this is new to me) I might break him further. And I'm scared that I won't know what to do if that happens...if it all spirals completely out of control. And I'm scared that I'll have to break him...I know that because of my father my ties to the Dark Lord are strong, I alone cannot break those associations. I don't want my cowardice in the face of death to be the thing that kills the one person that I've started to give half a crap about.

Even through all my fear, I want him. I want him physically. But I suppose it would almost be akin to rape to take him now, in this state, but I'm not sure if I can wait. I was never that patient ether. But if it was the thing to tip him over the edge and into the great chasm of trusting me, would it be really worth it? Or even be fair on him? I know that there are plans for me, and I have made promises I think I now regret, and if I could turn back time I would. I really fucking would.

At the end of my internal tirade I sighed. In truth, I was trying to guess and second-guess a guy that now I hardly knew. And it would be fruitless to try to make some sort of plan based on my complete lack of knowledge (if there was something I was good at it was knowing how to protect myself.) If I acted on instinct I would most probably be fine, Harry seems the type to act on instinct - I mean, you don't just plan that sort of...violence, it has to be impulsive. So I would be rash and impulsive and maybe it would work.

* * *

_HarryPOV:_

As the days rolled by Hogwarts started to feel less and less like home. Umbridge was taking over, posing behind the title of 'High Inquisitor' if you believed that bullshit, she all but ran the school, making new and oppressing rules like it was going out of fashion. Those walls that I cherished (and still do, because as long as Dumbledor is official headmaster, there's still hope) now feel like they're closing in on me. The weight of everyones disappointment, expectations and judgments were crushing - and that is how the evening found me; outside on a chilly autumn evening, hiding under the ivy the last place Cedric and I were truly together.

I sat down, leaning against the wall, drinking in the clean, fresh air - a slight smile of nostalgia playing across my lips despite the biting cold. As I lapsed into the happy memories of last summer I begun to slip into a reluctant sleep, eventually giving in and falling into the most natural of sleeps I'd had in weeks.

I woke with a start a while later (I'm not sure how long, only it felt like an hour or so,) to find Draco staring at me.

"You were asleep," he said uselessly.

"I know," I snapped, annoyed at being woken. "I'm going inside now."

"Wait," he asked.

I did as he asked - considering he'd just saved me from probable hypothermia, which would've landed me in Madame Pomfrey's care, which in turn would've revealed more than a little hypothermia to be wrong with me, I owed him a little of my time. I was also becoming acutely aware of how much I owed him for not spilling my secrets to the whole school - I am weary of why he hasn't said anything, but I'm hoping it's kindness, (since my talks with Luna I've started looking cautiously for trust in more unusual places). But I highly doubt it's just plain kindness, sometimes when he looks at me I see this predatory look in his eyes , I find it both terrirfying and strangely hypnotic, like a moth to flame. Nevertheless, I felt my mind rushing towards panic.

"Harry," he started awkwarly, as if his heart was forcing his mind to something. "I know I'm probably no good for you, and you deserve so many people, and there are probably a million others you'd rather..." he realised he was rambling and sighed, mentally erasing whatever he was saying. "Harry: I want you."

I stopped. I didn't have a response planned for that. Of all the things he could've said, of all the things he could've done, why this? What a cruel thing to do! He is the only person who has seen me truly break down, yet he thinks that the best thing to do is fuck with my emotions. Why would he lie like that? Of course he dosen't want me...he's seen my rip my body apart...why would anyone want me after that?I realised he was waiting for an answer, so I blinked back tears of anger and chose to glare at him.

"Don't lie to me, Malfoy," I all but spat. "Leave me alone."

"I'm not lying..." he didn't leave.

"You're a Deatheater, Malfoy, you take what you want," I didn't dare divulge that I knew no one could want me, he dosen't need to see more of my weakness.

"I...Harry don't be an idiot, you know that's bullshit," he only sounded half-sure.

"Fuck off, Draco, just leave me alone, you know better than anyone how much my heart was broken, I want to be _alone_."

He laughed spitefuly, his shy demeanor falling away. "Oh, look at yourself, Harry. You've changed so much, you're not the same guy Cedric fell in love with, do you think he would really love some little cutter like you?"

I immediately started choking on fresh tears, pushing past him I sprinted towards the warm castle, the outside world suddenly seeming asphyxiating and horriffic. He was right. He knew, he knew Cedric hated me. I didn't stop running all the way up to the dorms, were I jumped onto my bed and tugged the curtains cloased around me. Only then did I start sobbing silently, I hugged my pillow to me, and closed my eyes, already regretting what I was about to do.

"_Affligo tergum,_"

I felt the spell rip through my body, sinking my teath into my pillow so I would keep silent, I let the cuts spring up across my body. I didn't make a noise as I felt the bed covers saturated with my blood. I knew the spell wouldn't kill me, I founded last year in the restriced section - it was used to torture criminals hundreds of years ago, it made random cuts spring up across the victims body and then it would pull the skin together before the victim could die. Because of the quick scar formantion though, the skin around the cuts would become taught and if the spell was used often enough, the skin would rip apart as it tried to heal and just created more and more tearing gashes. I promised myself I wouldn't let that happen.

I stayed stock still, imagining what it would be like to be like Cedric, what it would be like to be dead. I imagined it would be oddly peaceful and nice. But too cold, I was shivering in that bed, a cold coffin under cold earth would be too much. But, the calm was so inviting...

_Dream Diary #12:_

_He's blaming me, I should've shouted at him louder, been more forceful when I told him to go, could've saved his life. He's souting at me from afar._

* * *

**A/N: The spell meant 'tear skin'. Imaginative, I know -_- **

**xxx**


	12. Anything

_3edPOV:_

"It has been a long time since the boy promised his reports," a voice with an unknown owner echoed from the shadows.

"That is true, Lucius, your boy promised us something several weeks ago, we have been lax until now" it is clear who says this because Lucius shudders in fear slightly at the underlying threat in the voice.

"But Dark Lord, wait until you hear what he has to say," Lucius smiled slightly, his tired, gray eyes twinkling slightly in the promise of reward. "I think you will find it very...amusing."

"Very well," Voldemort permitted. "Let the boy speak."

At this Draco stepped out in front of the Dark Lord, bowing deep as he had been taught to do. And, even though his stomach was filled with guilt, his story spilled through his lips: off his tongue rolled the tale of Harry's debt to him, and through his teeth he forced out the story of Harry's cutting habit. He told them everything and the room of death eaters listened in complete silence. It was only when he was finished that the worst part started, they started to laugh - he knew they would, they where mocking Harry and, out of his fear, he laughed along, burying his guilt deep inside him.

He knew deep inside that he was nothing but a coward: all Voldemort had to do was ask him to continue reporting back to him as regularly as possible, and look at Draco with those cold, red eyes and he found himself agreeing to continue betraying Harry. Deep down he knew that, despite all his self destruction, Harry was far stronger than Draco could ever be. He wanted to rewind time.

* * *

_HarryPOV:_

I awoke with a stab of pain that morning, the memories of the previous night (and the night before that, and before that) flying back to me and my only answer was a pathetic wince. I cleaned myself and my bed and it felt ritualized, I sighed sadly. At least today was a Saturday. I looked up, startled from my morning routine, by an owl scratching at the window - bemused, I crossed the room and forced open the stiff window to let it swoop in. To my further surprise, it dropped its letter on my bed before flying straight back out of the still-open window without even waiting for a reply.

_I know you're angry with me, but we need to talk._

_Meet me by the entrance to the corridor that leads to the Slytherin Dorms at 7. There's a hidden room down there._

_I'll assume you already know which corridor the Slytherin Dorms are down._

_D._

Seven o'clock. That gave me just under 10 hours of doing nothing to look forward to - and that suited me just fine.

* * *

Approximately nine hours later I found myself pacing impatiently, glancing at the wall-mounted clock ever thirty seconds or so. I was annoyed at myself for waiting for him - I didn't want to go see him, I tried to convince myself, he's a bastard to you, remember? But a small voice kept coming back with: then why are you waiting on bated breath for his next move? I sighed and continued pacing.

About half an hour after that I gave up, I wasn't winning any arguments against myself and I would just have to endure the emabrrassment of being stupidly early over the slow torture of losing my mind. If Draco (oh, look at that, first names) - Malfoy pointed out that I was early I'd just brush it off as wanting to get it over with...or some other bullshit like that, he'd swallow it. I ambled slowly towards our meeting place.

I sighed as I rounded the corner to the Slytherin Corridor, it was ten to seven. In my self-involved haze I didn't notice the body step out in front of me, until two strong hands were grasping my shoulders, preventing me from tumbling to the floor. I felt a flush of embarrassment tint my cheeks, I glanced up to see who this mysterious figure was - and my breath caught in my throat. Malfoy. Malfoy wearing a semi-smug smile on his face.

"Couldn't wait?" he asked, referring to the time.

"To get this 'talk' over with? Yeah," I bit back. "You can let go of me now."

He seemed to have lost his cool for a moment as he quickly let his hands fall from my shoulders, but he soon regained composture.

"You look cute when you blush, by the way," he smiled, "Come on. Hidden room."

And with that he took off down the corridor, me following close behind him. He stopped between two brackets on the wall and - after glancing suspiciously down the corridor - placed his hand, which I now noticed had a silver ring on it, on a nondescript-looking brick in the wall. The ring glowed bright white for a few seconds before a large, square outline of a door flashed white through the brick. Draco ushered me inside and slid in after me, closing the door with a click and a flash of white light. I realised it was locked - the ring-on-stone contact was the key.

I decided not to panic and instead took in my surroundings - the room was large, about the size of the griffyndor common room, and decorated similarly. Except this was far more lavish: the sofas where plump and soft looking, adorned with cushions with beautiful silver silk patterns stitched into the silky fabric, there was no fire in the grate, the room was instead lit by fires in brackets hung on the walls and a large, glass chandelier illuminated by burning candles hung from the high ceiling. The walls were lined with bookshelves that where fully stocked with novels and exotic looking ornaments as bookends, and where there weren't bookshelves there where piles of those beautiful-looking cushions littering the soft rouge carpet. Everything else was, of course, in silver and green.

"It's been in the family for generations," Draco explained, guessing my question. "And yes, the ring is the key."

I nodded quietly and leaned against the stone where the door was (the only bare bit of wall in that room) and took a few more moments to digest everything."Okay, Draco, what do you want?" I said finally.

"I want to hold you to your promise," he stepped slightly closer.

"What do you want?" whatever it was, I wasn't going to like it, may as well get it over with.

"You promised me anything," he said.

"Yes," I snapped, not wanting to play games anymore.

I felt him step closer once more - my breath quickening slightly as I guessed his intent. "Draco..." I cautioned.

His hand shot out to hold onto the bookshelf closest to me, cornering me. "And besides...I take what I want."

And then his lips were upon mine; they were hot and dominant. I pulled back at first, disgusted at the thought of kissing him, but he persevered and, as my head hit the stone and I had no where else to go, I found his fast moving, beautifully evasive tongue begin to feel pleasant. My eyes fluttered shut as I relaxed into Draco and before I knew it, I was kissing back. My tongue playing along with his, brushing on his smooth teeth and darting in and out of his mouth, as he explored my own mouth. He flicked his tongue and I found my hands flying to grasp at the material covering his chest and bunching it in my fists.

He pressed closer to me, further deepening the kiss, his hands wrapping and grabbing deliciously in my hair. Suddenly, I was being pulled from the wall, his body still tight against mine and our lips still attatched. He was pulling me towards one of those large, soft-looking sofas. With a small moan of loss from my part, our lips separated as he pushed me down, almost angrily, onto my back on the sofa.

And almost immediately he was on top of me, his lips recapturing mine, except this time they felt far more probing, far more adventurous. My fingers scrabbled at the buttons on his shirt as he moved his mouth from mine and across my cheek, down to my neck, where he paused to bite and suck whilst I gasped helplessly beneath him, my hands giving up on his buttons and combing through his hair to drag that wonderful mouth closer to my needy skin.

He lifted his head, gently fighting my pressing hands. He glanced over me - gaping mouth, flushed skin and a neck that bruises should be flowering in. He frowned slightly at this and set about undoing my shirt buttons, leaning down over me, his mouth ghosting over mine.

"I want to take off your glamor," he breathed against the corner of my mouth.

"No," my hands begun where they left off and carried on undoing his buttons.

"Please, Harry, it's not like I haven't seen it," he pressed, grinning predatorialy as my chest was exposed.

"No, Draco, they're ugly," I had undone all of his buttons and he lifted away from my slightly so he could shrug it off and throw the offending item to the floor.

"That's a matter of opinion," he lifted me up slightly so I could throw off my own shirt. Sinking back down we both gasped at the flesh-on-flesh contact.

"It's not going to happen," I told him stubbornly, caressing the contours of his strong arms.

"I feel like your not really here," this was whispered into the hollow of my neck. "It's not really your skin. I left you love bites, Harry, won't you look at them with me? It'd be beautiful."

"No," I had moved my hands to the plain of his chest, delighting at the shivers that ran his porclain skin after my fingers.

"You promised anything," he pushed, yanking on my belt loops, bringing my hips into a moment of electrical contact with his.

He begun work on my trousers, franticly unzipping them and pulling them off my legs along with my boxers. I shivered at the cold air, lifting myself up on my arms so I could kiss his chest as he maneuvered off his own jeans.

"And I get what I want," his voice cut through the hot silence.

"Mmmm-hmmm," I replied, not even thinking through my lust-induced haze.

It was only when I felt the faint ripples sigh over my skin that I knew what he'd done - he'd taken away my glamor. I felt him shift off his trousers finally but refused to meet his eyes, keeping mine down cast on my mess of a body. But he grabbed my chin, pulling upwards slightly so I would have to look at him and I sheepishly met his swirling gray eyes. They were a myriade of emotions, but some sort of odd affection (or was it pity?) seemed to shine through. He kissed me softly, chastely this time, no urgency involved whatsoever. As we kissed he lowered himself towards me, our skin starting to ever-so-teasingly touch. His fingers brushed gently against the love bites blooming on my skin.

"It's okay, I lubricated," he whispered almost absentmindedly onto my lips before taking them in another deep kiss.

Before I had time to process what he'd said I felt slick fingers brush upon and briefly probe my entrance, and then the solid (yet thankfully lubricated) weight of Draco pushing inside of me. And he pushed in hard and fast. I half-screamed half-moaned into the kiss, his lips muffling most of my noise as I arched my back to adjust to the feeling of having someone inside of me - something I hadn't felt in so long.

Draco slowly started to move: at first only small, shallow movements, but he would suddenly switch to a few long, slamming thrusts and then back to his frustratingly small movements. Impatient, I slammed my hips down to meet one of his slams, at this he laughed slightly when the movement hit my prostate and I writhed helplessly, for a moment breathless. He braced his hands ether side of my body, pulling his hips back and forth in a steady rhythm that kept hitting the spot every time and had me clawing at his arms trying to bring him closer, trying to get some relief. In desperation I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him nearer, keeping him deep inside me.

His thrusts became less rhythmical and more spasmodic as he came closer to his climax, smiling down on me he drew his hand across my aching length two, three times and I felt the muscles in my abdomen tighten and he thrust two, three times and I came. Over the tidal wave of my pleasure I felt Draco give a few more thrusts and then come, collapsing onto me as I rode out all the shock waves from my release - crying out Draco's name.

As I came down from my high I felt reality start returning to me with a bitter sting, I rolled over slightly, unraveling my legs from Draco, I lay on my side doing my best to feign tiredness. Draco flopped down next to me, I could feel his happiness, I could feel him smiling at me. I reluctantly opened my eyes to look at him and we lay like that for a few minutes (though it felt like hours, I really just wanted to sleep), but he looked so ecstatic.

Finally he spoke: "You know you're really very beautiful, Harry," he ran his fingers down my side as he spoke.

I felt sick, remembering the scars that he could now see. I wanted to wrap my arms around myself, as if that would make them invisible, as if that would make _me_ invisible. But he didn't seem to mind them, he fucked me with the scars there, it's disgusting.

"Draco, you know I didn't make most of these," I motioned to the scars. "Most of them where made by other people - only the magical ones can show through my glamor."

"Then how...?"

I could've laughed at his ignorance. "I lived with muggles for eleven years, I stay with them every summer. They hate me. Draco, these scars are them...well most of them are. It makes me ugly." I closed my eyes in defeat.

"Beautiful," his defiant voice whispered, this time I chose only to sigh and try to get back to getting some sleep.

I felt his lips on the lightning bolt on my forehead then lifted to brush slightly lower to my cheek where a small battle-scar from years ago rested. My eyes flickered open in curiosity as I watched him duck slightly lower to kiss the small scattering of scars upon my neck and collar, pausing to lick down one of the long scars that I'd taken to drawing. I felt myself become entranced by his movements, he didn't miss one mark on my body, all of the many scars soon felt like they bore his lip print - permanently engraved into the fabric of them.

As his loving kisses soothed me I found the sleep I'd been seeking and as his lips where somewhere around the center of my back, moving their way towards my hips I feel into a exhausted and thankfully dreamless sleep.


	13. He's On The Move

_HarryPOV:_

After that night the following days went by in a content blur. I didn't really feel anything - it felt like I was in a little protective bubble and that suited me just fine, it was much better than being hypersensitive to everything like I'd grown used to. And besides, it gave my brain time to enjoy the little things in life, like fresh air and cold water. Little things that I'd gone so many months without. At night it all came rushing back to me: feelings of guilt, anger, mistrust...but I found that if I was exhausted enough when I went to sleep those things didn't have time to enter my brain, so I dealt.

One night, I was busy working myself into an exhausted stupor by pacing whilst reading one of Hermione's complicated books when an owl startle me out of my haze by tapping on the window. I rushed to let it in and it swooped through the open window on a gust of cold air, grumpily dropped a note in my hand and flew straight back out. The note was crumpled and the handwriting looked scruffy, yet familiar:

_Harry,_

_Meet me in the Griffyndor common room at 11.30 tonight._

_Make sure you're alone._

_S x_

Sirius! I beam of true happiness illuminated my face. Ten thirty - I still had an hour to wait. But, how would he be getting here, you can't flu or apperate. Surely, it must be too dangerous? But he wouldn't do anything stupid, would he? Unless Lupin had told him something, unless he was really worried or scared. I bit my lip anxiously, sitting down on one of the armchairs close to the warm fire I hugged my knees to my chest and decided that it would be no good worrying about him, I had no way to contact Sirius, and even if I did it might be the thing to give him away. I settled for staring relentlessly at the common room door and waiting.

The clock chimed once to mark half-past the hour. Eleven thirty and no one had come. I sighed in disappointment, my heart sinking, it was probably a mistake, only a cruel prank or something. I scrunched the note up and chucked it in the fire. Then I heard it - a loud, unnatural crackling noise, staring at the fire I saw Sirius' face form from the glowing embers. I scrambled ungracefully off the armchair towards the heath, disbelieving that it was actually him.

"Harry?" the fire-face asked.

"I'm here," I answered quickly. "Sirius?"

"Yes," he smiled slightly. "How are you Harry? I was worrying, I haven't heard from you in months."

"I'm fine," lying through my teeth seems to come naturally to me. "The school isn't, though. Umbridge has taken over everything, she's drafting in all these new rules, it barely feels like Hogwarts anymore..."

"Then, Harry, we don't have much time, she probably keeps tabs on the fireplaces," his tone became rushed and a little breathy. "If the others knew I was telling you anything they wouldn't be happy, so I need you to listen well, I won't be able to repeat this: if you've been reading between the lines in the papers you'll know that the minister is getting more and more paranoid by the minute, he thinks Dumbledore wants to overthrow him -"

"But -"

He ignored me and carried on. "- I know it's insane. And, he's covering up or lying about most of these disappearances. Harry, this is how it started last time - The Order is doing all it can, but we only have limited reach, but we've learnt some things for when the war comes this time round. And there will be a war, we can't prevent that anymore, it's just a matter of limiting it's reach," his face gained a look of startled desperation. "Looks like you're on your own for now..."

"Wait!"

His face disappeared with a few loud pops from the fireplace. I wonder what had startled him and, as I ascend the stairs and begin to get ready for bed deep in my thoughts, I wonder what new information The Order had gained, and why they felt the need to protect it so much. Or protect me so much, it's clear that at least Sirius though I was better, but maybe that's as good as it was going to get.

But he had promised a war, and for now I'm on my own, I'm more 'on my own' then he thinks, everyone looks at me like I'm a ghost now - these past few days I've been a grinning ghost, but nonetheless, I think they see me as gone. I think I need to fix something, only how? I fell asleep with a troubled mind: worrying about how to get my life back together (and no matter how much it hurt, because I needed to be able to fight), and scared of the fight, scared of everything leading up to the fight.

* * *

The next morning I wondered down to breakfast in a groggy, yet more-or-less collected state. I needed some caffeine before I could quite feel human again. I was sitting at the Gryffindor table, busy trying to absorb as much heat and energy from my coffee as I could when Hermione came bounding up to me, she looked exited yet slightly apprehensive as our eyes met.

"Harry, I guess this is going to be a little out of the blue..." she paused, clearly arranging her words in her mind. "But, whatever was troubling you...look, umm, these past few days you've been looking slightly better and, we'll I've been trying to find a good time to bring this up..."

I nodded at her to continue, feeling to tired to come up with some polite or witty response to her ramblings - better to just sit and she'll come out with whatever it is she wants to say eventually.

"Umbridge isn't teaching us anything, that's obvious - and You-Know-Who is getting stronger, that's not so obvious, but still very important. We need to learn to defend ourselves," she glanced at me, checking I was following her train of thought. I nodded again. "Will you teach us to defend ourselves?"

I paused and put down my coffee. "When you say 'us', you mean...?"

She glanced over her shoulder at our usual crowd. "There might be more, though."

"I don't know if I can," she looked disappointed and I rushed to explain. "I wish I could, only, as you've noticed, I've been in a pretty...low place and I'm far from out of it yet, Hermione. I won't tell you about it now, I can't - but understand that it's dark down there." she nodded sadly. "I can't push anything more on myself, if I commit to teaching all these people..." I drifted off, not really needing to finish the sentence.

"Please? Please, just think about it?" she looked a little desperate. "Tell me your final decision tonight and I'll organize something for next time we're allowed to Hogsmead. Just to meet with the people that want to learn to fight, okay?"

"I'll think about it, but I doubt my decision will change at all."

"Thank you, Harry!" she smiled, apparently satisfied, and bounced away to join in with the rest of our friends leaving me deep in thought.

I should probably decline - teaching people will just mean added pressure on top of everything I'm already feeling. But what Sirius said last night kept me thinking - he said that the war was coming and Voldemort was rising fast, which meant I should stop being so selfish and help fight. That was the reason I started keeping secrets in the first place, wasn't it? So that they wouldn't assume I was too weak, or delicate. If I passed up this opportunity to train a handful of people surely that would make the last few months of bullshit basically pointless.

Which is why that evening, as the crowd of people usually inhabiting the cozy common room began to thin I approached Hermione, my nerves screaming and argument at each other, one half of me telling me to go for it, the other one shouting to hide and protect myself.

"So...?" she asked, seeing my pause.

"I'll go to meet with them, but I'm not promising anything," there, that was something that should keep all of me satisfied.

"Thank you, Harry. It means a lot," she looked like she was going to leave it at that, but she had second thoughts. "It means a lot that you're, you know, coming out of your shell. We haven't had a proper conversation since - well, since before summer. And -"

"Hermione, I -"

"And you don't have to talk to me now, about anything. I've realized that whatever's happening to you is personal. But, you know, I'll always be there for you, Harry, just whenever you feel like talking."

"Goodnight," was all I could trust my voice with.

I walked up the stairs that night with tears choking me, tears of complicated emotions. I felt relieved that night to cry, because I cried for more than just the loss of Cedric, and for all the hurt inflicted upon me by myself and others. I think I cried for everything I'd put the people around me through, I may feel like nothing more than a trophy to them sometimes, but I think I have some true friends, and I need to remember that more. Maybe being with Draco, if even just once, did something for me.

I fell asleep that night confused and a little sick. But nevertheless, I fell asleep, and I slept well.

_Dream Diary #24:_

_I'm drowning in a lake and on one side there's Cedric, and the other has Draco. They both want to save me, and they are arguing over who it will be._

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it's a bit short guys, but I need to progress the plot a bit and I wanna try and keep the chapters sort of organized while I'm at it :)**

**Vx**


	14. Trust Me

**A/N: Just wanted to thank you all for keeping up the reviews/faves/subs :) totally keeps me motivated**

**Enjoy! xxx**

* * *

_HarryPOV:_

So, in keeping with her crappy attempts at keeping me from panicking and running, Hermione chose to host this meeting in perhaps the grimmest pub I'd ever seen. The Hogs Head looked dilapidated, it looked like the type of place that people go when you know there's no where else for them, just the pub and staring at the bottom of a glass. It did nothing at all to sooth my fraying nerves as we trudged through the thick winter layer of snow, towards the gray ramshackle building. Every step seemed to bring me right to the edge of turning and running, but every breath came with redemption. I needed to remember that this would be hard, but it would also be worth it.

The interior of the Hogs Head was in keeping with the exterior and littered with old, drunken louts drinking their money away. I sighed and averted my eyes from their curious, glazed stares, letting Hermione gently lead me to a relatively-comfy chair by the fire. She brought me a drink of something strong, and warming but my hands felt shaky and in the end I gave up on doing anything but wait. And wait.

A slow trickle of people started to come into the pub, and by the time everyone was settled and clasping a drink between gloved hands we had an audience, most of whom I could name - which somehow made it worse. Fred and George were there, Neville, Luna, the Patil sisters, Dean and Seamus, Colin Creevy and - my eyes fell on her last -Cho Chang. Cho, who's heart had been broken by Cedric. He'd never explained why he'd left her, but when everyone found out about him and me, she must've felt so betrayed, and so...used. And I guess I feel guilty for her. After all, I stole her boyfriend. And managed to get him killed.

I was so ludicrously nervous as we waited for everyone to settle. I could feel their curious stares burning into me, I didn't know what to do. I felt that they all thought I had some sort of magical answer for their problems, but the truth was; I didn't even have an answer for my own. Like a little reminder I absentmindedly thumbed some of the newer, bright red lines on my arm under my thick winter layers. Somehow that calmed me down a little, or at least gave me something else to think about.

"So," Hermione said breathily, silence descending upon the gathering. "We all know why we're here - we want to learn to defend ourselves from who ever's out there, from...Voldemort." she steadied herself before she continued. "We all know we aren't learning anything with Umbridge in control, so we need to branch out, we need to find some way to learn. And, luckily for us, we have someone with real experience in defending himself - he can teach us what we need to know, not that textbook rubbish that the ministry feeds us."

A small murmur of approval rippled through the assembled people and I felt myself breathe a small sigh of relief, maybe they were genuinely interested.

"But how do we know he's telling the truth?" voice shouted out, and I felt the long awaited stab of pian I'd been trying to protect myself from.

"Because Dumbledore says, y' numpty," Ron snapped back.

"So?" the voice came again. "Dumbledore says because he says. Where's the proof?"

A few "Yeah!"'s of agreement echoed around. I felt the pain strong now, it was all I could do not to break down, my eyes where swimming with black rage and adrenaline, and slow blue misery.

"Tell us more about how Diggory died!" said another hungry voice.

"Cedric!" I all but screamed, slicing through my watered vision like a knife. "His name is Cedric, not just fucking faceless 'Diggory'. And he didn't die, he was murdered."

By now my chest was rising and falling rapidly with the strength it took to say that, and the effort of pushing the pain away. But I had to do it for him, for Cedric. Staying strong for him, for his memory, I pushed all the blurry colours of emotion to the sides of my vision and regarded my audience with a tired, yet concentrated glare. I would defend Cedric, even if it fucking killed me.

Hermione looked at me, concerned. "...listen if you're here just to get some gossip on Cedric, you might as well clear out now."

There was silence once more, the whooshing of my blood was the only thing I could hear.

"Is it true you can conjure a patronus charm?" Luna's timid, kind voice broke the silence.

"Yes," Hermione said, happy for the change in subject. "In his third year he fought off about fifty dementors, I was there."

"Wow, Harry," the whole group seemed to be impressed, if a couple were a little disbelieving.

If felt good for the change in subject, and gave Luna a glance of gratitude. But I still felt I needed to explain myself properly, if only to prove to myself that I wasn't afraid, that I could be strong for someone I loved, and loved deeply. Baby steps.

"Listen," I instantly had everyone's attention. I took a deep breath then continued: "I can teach you as many spells as you like, but you still won't be prepared. It works differently when you're out there, when you're fighting for you're life: you don't have second chances, you can't try again tomorrow, there is no textbook to revise from, it is literally a choice of life or death. It's black and white. Cedric was amazing at school, everyone knew that, he passed all his classes and everyone knew that when he left Hogwarts, the world would be his oyster. But he didn't know what to expect in the real world, he still had that niavety - and he chose love over life. If he'd gone back, I would've died that night. He was smart, brave, noble, a romantic...but he's also dead because of it. You don't know what it's like to be out there."

Each word was like a dagger, my hear was a pin cushion, by the time I had finished I had no more words left to say to anyone in that room, let alone the breath to say it with. I stood up shakily, exhausted, and begun to walk to the door.

"Then teach us," Hermione's voice rung clear. "Teach us what it's like."

I turned to look at her sad eyes, I think for the first time she was feeling some of what I felt. And I think it hurt her. If I didn't teach all of these people, all these people staring at me with determined eyes, would they all meet the same fate as Cedric? Would they all go off trying to fight the darkness? Would it be my fault if they did? As soon as that thought entered my brain I knew I had to teach them, or it would truly be my fault. If I just tryed to teach them, even if it achieved nothing but them seeing how broken I am, maybe it would deter them enough to save lives. Or teach them enough to bring down Voldemort.

I sat down next to Hermione, the world going into a soundless blur as I watched people sign their names on a scroll marked _Dumbledore's Army_. It was a strange feeling, I felt oddly responsible for them all as each name was added to the list. They all had so much trust in their eyes for me, and I felt like I was already betraying them, a deep, dark cloud flooded my mind as I realized: I was sleeping with the enemy.

* * *

_DracoPOV:_

I didn't quite know what I was doing wondering near the Shrieking Shack, I think I was bored and was childishly wishing for something spooky to happen, just so that anything would happen. But, everything was still and silent - the softly falling snow only adding to the feeling of isolation, the soft-slow crunching of my feet in the thick white blanket was the only noise I could hear.

Truth be told I think I was missing Harry. We hadn't talked since out 'encounter' the other week, and when we'd seen each other in the corridors we'd just nodded slightly. I think we had the underlying intention to talk to one another, but we mutually chickened out and carried on with our separate days. I really, truly, missed him though. Which was a new feeling for me. I sighed and sat down on a rock, it was too cold to be walking any further, but I didn't quite feel like turning back yet.

I was sitting for a while, completely lost in my own little world I felt a small (embarrassing) scream catch in my throat as a body crashed into mine, almost knocking me to the ground. My eyes flew open to be greeted with Harry - a cold, shivering, sniveling Harry. His arms were rapped around my waist and he was shaking, not sure what to do, I in turn wrapped my arms around him, drawing him closer to me, my hand gently playing with his hair. He seemed to relax sightly.

"Hey," I said in what I hoped to be a comforting tone. "What's happened?"

"I need you now," was all he said and I don't think he was answering my question.

"Harry, seriously..." it wasn't like me to be apprehensive, everyone knew how cavalier I could be.

"Draco. Now," he all but growled.

With that he grabbed my arm and led me to a small outhouse that I guess was an isolated part of the shrieking shack. Inside it was small and cold, but a couple of warming spells later and one locking spell on the door and it seemed cozy, the wooden floorboards and the cobble stone walls gave the small, empty room a very personal feel. It made us feel like we were more alone than we really where. It was a nice feeling. I turned to Harry, who had just finished his last warming spell.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" I asked with more vigor than I felt.

He rushed towards me, his lips colliding messily with mine. A moment later I was pinned against the wall and Harry was kissing me, it was a deep, passionate kiss that didn't leave an inch of his soul covered. I kissed back as well I could, but my knees where going weak and I was pressed flush against the wall. Although this one of Harry's kisses was dominating and strong, it showed what a facade it was. Deep down I think he needed me to push back and glare at him, then move in with predatory grace and dominate the next kiss. And I would, but this was so good, in a minute I would do what he wanted, what he needed...

He pulled away suddenly, a moan of displeasure leaving my lips. He looked a little hurt, I could see tears begin to glisten on his soft lashes. He sat down dejectedly on the floor and I slowly joined him, wrapping a comforting arm around his slim shoulders.

"Harry, what's happened?" I repeated.

"Draco, they all have so much trust in me, I..." he seemed to stop himself. "I can't tell you, I promised. But they want me to teach them, I'll be responsible for them."

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me everything, but I'm here for you, okay," I soothed, placing a kiss on his forehead.

He smiled sadly, a few tears escaping his eyes. "I told them everything that happened. I told them about that night in the graveyard."

"Harry, it's probably best you..."

"They shouldn't have listened!" he snapped at himself. "...but I'm...with you..."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No," he said firmly, all traces of tears from his eyes were gone.

He slammed his lips into mine again, but this time I pushed into the kiss and won the battle. Now in control, I lowered him onto the floor, his body relaxing onto the pre-warmed floorboards. My lips not leaving his mouth, I straddled him and gently begun to undo his t-shirt, my fingers rubbing on each piece of exposed skin as the fabric left it. Our lips only parted when he had to shift slightly to shrug the shirt off his shoulders.

Instead of capturing his lips again I chose to kiss a gentle line down his chest, occasionally letting my tongue flick out to lick his soft skin, settling teasingly just above where he really wanted me. I kept kissing his lower abdomen, delighting at the strangled moans and small, sudden arches of his back - he endured for a few minutes, his erection straining against the fabric of his trousers. His hands bunched in my shirt and wrenched me up, pulling the buttons out of their holes as he went, I pulled the last of the ruined fabric off my shoulders roughly.

"More," Harry breathed.

I smiled and in a flash was back in control, my teeth baring down on his neck, making multiple small butterfly-bruises litter his flawless skin. In his distraction I tore his jeans off, and then his boxers, leaving him naked and aching for it. I lowered my still-clothed groin to meet his sensitive flesh, the contact sending almost visible electricity over his body. I pressed down harder, his body almost convulsing with every load groan he failed to suppress.

I pulled my own trousers and boxers off whilst he was still reeling from the pleasure.

"No," Harry grabbed my hand as I was about to prepare him. "I want it now."

"Are you sure?"

"I've done this enough times," he said.

I was slightly unsure, but I so needed him, my lust was clouding any sort of judgment skills I might have had.

I shoved forwards, both Harry and my bodies arched at the tightness, it took me a moment to get moving, and a few moments more to be able to move in fluid motions. My thrusts slowly got longer, and then harder and soon I was pounding Harry into the floor, his legs wrapped tightly around my waist, his mouth letting out those beautiful little screams that sounded so...illicit.

Harry came before me and I rode out his orgasm in blind passion, eventually allowing myself to collapse into my own release. We lay on the floor together panting for only a few minutes before an unspoken agreement came between us and we silently got dressed, the only spoken words where my basic spells to fix my spoilt shirt.

Then, again silently, we left the building. Harry a few minutes behind me so that we would not be seen. It felt strange that I didn't feel the yearning to go back to him, although that may be because I knew I would in a way be betraying him. I would get more information. Perhaps it was better for the both of us to have a purely physical relationship. Nevertheless, I still felt alone as I trudged back to the castle.

_Dream Diary #32:_

_There are stars whizzing past my eyes. Bright white stars and gently drifting pink blossom leafs._


	15. That's All We Are?

_DracoPOV:_

Harry is really starting to trust me and I'm not sure how I feel about it. One one hand I know that it's perfect, for both of us - we can work through our shit together and maybe, one day create a pretty little life to share. But on the other hand I know that I'm betraying him already, but if it makes it any better I have no choice in telling The Dark Lord all I know, it's that or he kills me. But Cedric would've rather died than betray Harry, does that make me a coward? Or Cedric reckless? Ether way I can't see a strong, solid relationship being built on all this turmoil, and that is in many ways, sadder than there never being a relationship to begin with.

He seemed a wreck the other night - but I tried my hardest not to listen to him too carefully, anything I know - the Dark Lord knows, and I can't lie to him. Therefore if I just don't listen it's better for him in the long run, even if I can't be as much of a comfort. And the little crowbar separation I've put between us is important - I'm almost certain that it will put him in agony now, but if he can find it in his heart to forgive me, then we may have a future. I want to hold on to that.

I feel like shit when I tell the Dark Lord what I know. I mean, I'm happy that my father's finally proud of me, and everyone sees me as valuable. But they're so, so cruel about him - they laughed at his plan to try and teach DADA...I think it's brave. If only they knew. But if they knew, they would mock him more, it's like watching vultures play with a piece of meat. Only they're still waiting for the meat to be handed over...

With all those thoughts running through my head I was laying in bed with Harry for the first time. I'd smuggled him in to the Slytherin dorms (it was almost romantic) and we'd pulled the dark green velveteen curtains across my bed, cast some silencing spells and kissed, and fucked and kissed and now I had him lying in my arms: our whole bodies shrouded in post-coital bliss, drying sweat and the rushing haze of lust. Whilst I was lost in my thoughts I let my fingers gently twirl in his hair, simply enjoying the feeling of his breathing and my breathing, his soft hand resting on my chest, just over where my heart beat from.

"Draco...?" Harry whispered softly, his voice crackling with disuse.

"Mmhmmm?" I opened my eyes a crack, to glance down at him. His green eyes shone back at me through the thick darkness.

"Draco, are we dating?"

I stilled. I didn't expect that. Harry felt my tension and instantly stilled himself, his breaths now coming shorter and more restrained in an effort to give me my silence to think. I wanted so much to say yes, but I knew I couldn't. I shouldn't because I need to keep him as safe as I can. But he's so unstable, it might be more dangerous to make him think he's unloved. But at least I can prevent that, I can't help him if...when the Dark Lord attacks. I decided desperately to stay silent.

Eventually Harry got fed up with waiting for my answer.

"We should tell people," I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Harry..." I put a warning in my voice.

A warning he didn't take heed to. "I mean, they'd be shocked at first, but they'll have to live with it, because we won't care."

I stayed in my sickly silence, too cowardly to shatter his good mood.

He ploughed on; "Like, what if I took the silencing off the bed now? What if I just jumped out?" He jumped up on the bed like he was about to act.

"No!" I shouted, sudden fear making my decision for me. "Don't do that, Harry."

"Why?" he sat back down next to me.

I sat up to face him properly and became the best actor I could possibly be. "Because we're not dating, we're just fucking."

It was a snap decision, and the best one I figured I could make. I felt so shit as his face fell slightly, his eyes lowering to his fiddling hands.

"Oh, okay..." he took the blow meekly, I could almost feel his silent dissappointment radiate off of him.

We lapsed into silence and then slowly into an awkward sleep, each of us deep in our own thoughts.

* * *

I was, however, woken a few hours later by an odd shaking in the bed that had shattered whatever dream I was having and startled me awake. My eyes flew open and I was faced with Harry's scarred back, and he was shaking violently. I glanced around his body and saw what I most feared - he had his wand held like that first time I'd seen him, and where the wand was traced across his skin in it's wake it left glistening, wet, red lines. And then I felt it, the wetness in the bed, I lifted my hand from the mattress where it rested and my suspicions where correct, it was stained red. It took me a moment to register what was happening.

"Harry! No!" I shouted suddenly, jolting him out of his almost trance-like state.

He whimpered pathetically as I grabbed his wand off of him and threw it to the mattress, I cradled him in my arms bridal-style and gently moved his poor arms above his head (to a gasp of pain from his part) so he would loose less blood whilst I assessed the damage. I felt sicker and sicker the more I saw: there where lines all over his arms and he had begun to cut more patterns into his torso. And he looked so weak, so sickly weak.

"Harry, I need to take you to the infirmary," I said as levelly as I could.

"No, Draco," he grabbed my shoulder with surprising strength. "Please don't take me, it'll ruin everything."

I nodded silently, watching his eyes focus and defocus and his lips attain a blueish tint whilst I thought desperately of what to do - I was not in any way a healer or medi-wizard but I had to help Harry.

"Okay, I'm going to take you to the bathroom, but I need you to be absolutely silent."

He could do nothing but nod and, as I stood up carefully, his body was almost limp in my arms, his usually light body becoming more of a dead wieght. I hurried him through the silent dorms to the closest Slytherin bathroom. Once inside I lowered him gently into the bathtub and then rushed back to lock the door.

Once we where both safe inside I began to work. The bathroom was dimly lit so the first thing I did was utter _lumos_ to my wand and, as it glowed bright white, lay it down on the bath edge near Harry so I could at least see what I was doing. I felt sick as I grabbed a wash cloth and begun the slow task of gently cleaning the blood off Harry's body, being cautious not to pull on the skin and stretch any of the cuts. To my relief though, as the blood started to clear, there where not many deep cuts - on his stomach there where only two (one of which had begun to clot on its own) and on his arms there where five in total (again, a few of these had managed to start clotting without my help).

For the ones that weren't clotting I tied a cloth around them, elevated them and pressed and to my amazement after five minutes of this all the bleeding had stopped. I sighed and helped Harry to shakily lift himself from the bathtub so I could clean that as well. He smiled apologetically as I assisted him on his way to sitting down on the tiled floor, he shivered slightly at the cold.

"I forget my limits," he said. "I forget that I can't loose that much blood when I...cut a lot."

"That's exactly why you should stop!" I snapped.

He looked startled and I instantly felt bad. "I can't stop," he said.

"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Because..." he searched for the right words. "Because I feel something then."

"Feel something!?" I was snapping again. "Firstly, Harry, I've seen you cut and if there's one person who doesn't feel anything it's a person with a fucking blade in their arm! Cutting makes you feel shit all, and you know it. And secondly, if you want to feel something then go learn some tricks on your broomstick, go tell McGonnagal that she has a stick up her arse, go have rough sex all night long, whatever - you'll feel far more doing any of those things!"

He was silent for a long while and I was scared I'd said the wrong thing. Then he stood up, putting his arms out a little to steady himself.

"You have to care a little bit," he said quietly, half smiling.

And he (attempted to) saunter out the door, catching himself on the walls and door frame a few times, leaving me standing in the bathroom utterly bemused.

So that was his silly little plan to find out how much I truly cared about him? ...why do I have to fall for a self-destructive idiot?

* * *

_HarryPOV:_

Fuck, that was worth it in it's own sick, twisted way. He has to care about me, if he didn't care about me like he said then he would've just taken me to the infirmary and been done with it, so surely my trust must mean something to him. Yes, it was a massive gamble on my part, but didn't it pay off! I grinned as I gently massaged the sore skin on my arm trying to improve the circulation to the skin (I heard things heal better that way). Oh, it was insane, my little plan but, sipping my pumpkin juice the following morning and it elated me.

My thoughts where jumping everywhere, bouncing off the walls in my head - I was annalysing everything that I could remember Draco doing for me last night, I wish my mind wasn't so fuzzy with blood loss, maybe I missed a crucial signal that disproved my happy theory. I ran my hand through my messy black hair, feeling the warning beginnings of a tension headache start in my head, my own body telling me to calm the fuck down.

"Harry?" Hermione's sudden presence startled me out of my thoughts.

"Hi," I said.

"Great news:" she sat down next to me, practically bursting with excitement. "We've found somewhere for our Dumbledore's Army meetings. It's called the Room Of Requirement and it changes its features depending on what you need it to be. Meet us in the common room at six tonight and we'll show you the way. You're going to teach your first lesson this week!" she grinned.

"That's great, Hermione!" I smiled but underneath I felt the restless butterflies begin to flutter their wings and suddenly my breakfast looked far less appealing.

She must've seen the apprehension in my eyes, "Harry, you'll do great, I know it. And we'll be right there with you," she reassured me.

I nodded at her thankfully, and she seemed placated.

"Harry, I've come to talk to you about something else..." she said.

I glanced up at her from under my lashes, she settled into her chair and looked me dead in the eye.

"Did you mean everything you said in the Hog's Head? Do you feel all those things?" she rushed out her words like she was afraid of them.

I was speechless for a moment, not expecting that at all. "Yes," I said finally, looking back into her eyes.

She was silent for a while, her brain clearly processing whatever she'd just pieced together, we just sat and stared calculatingly into each others eyes.

"Harry...I, umm, if you --," she struggled. "I'm so sorry."

With that she got up and left in silence leaving me to stare contemplatively at my plate of now ugly-looking food. I shook my head and, coming back to my senses, decided to get up and go for a slow wonder towards my first lesson.

I'm strangely exited for this first DA meeting, it'll be good to have the distraction from all these thoughts of Draco, Draco, Draco this, Draco that (as lovely as his is), I do need something else in my life! Goodness, he's probably so worried about me, I gave him a fright last night - but I guess he should try and tell me more of the truth next time. I'll explain it to him when...well, when I get round to it. I laughed quietly to myself and shook my head to rid myself of my Draco-thoughts, pledging to not think about him anymore - besides, I'm supposed to be angry at him, he said I was only a fuck to him...

My resolution went well and by six o'clock I was feeling oddly serene about my first lesson thanks to promises of assistance from Ron and Hermione (Fred and George offered too, but I thought it wise to decline given their habitual pranks). I was lead down a winding route of corridors, I quickly gave up trying to guess where in the vast castle I was. We came to a strop outside an unimpressive-looking door.

"This is it?" I asked uncertainly.

"Yep," Neville grinned. "Go on. Go inside, the others will be along in the next five minutes."

I looked at him uncertainly and smiled, taking a deep breath I stepped through the wooden door and...and the room was beautiful, it was perfect. Mirrors lined the walls, in the center of the room was a target-painted figure, and the ceiling was so high it was perfect for levitating and patronuses and it had so, so many possibilities. I didn't notice Neville enter behind me, I was too busy rushing around the room and inspecting everything.

I jumped slightly when he spoke: "So, you like it then?"

"It's wonderful! Neville, you're a genius!" I grinned. "It's like Hogwarts wants us to fight back!"

As the other members of DA began to trickle through the doors their faces resembled my look of wonder. Once everyone was assembled Hermione primly clapped her hands and the bustling room fell silent, and all attention turned to me. Hermione was about to talk but I bravely begun.

"Thank you all for coming despite Umbrige's attempts to stop us," I regarded them all. "I'm going to start with more basic things and then build up - so remember, I don't mean to patronize those of you thank may know a particular spell, just treat it as a chance to practice technique." Everyone smiled and nodded, encouraged, I continued: "So I'd like to start with expelliarmus."

Everyone dispersed around the room. Hermione came up to me.

"That was very...diplomatic, Harry, well done."

"You look concerned," I commented.

"I am," she said. "I'm concerned for you, what you said this morning...I didn't know you were hurting like that, maybe this is too much."

"Hermione, I've been in pain for months and I'm fine," I smiled. "I promise I'll tell you everything when I'm ready. But for now, let me do this, it's a welcome distraction and it gives me some purpose."

She nodded and went off to find a space in the room.

I threw my all into that lesson: relishing every success I helped someone achieve, and epathizing with every failure. I felt hyper-sensitive to every concentrated face in that room and it was amazing, within half an hour all my nerves and original apprehensions had dissappeared. And before I knew it, two hours had passed and I had to let everyone sneak back to their dorm rooms and I had to finish pretending to be what I wasn't (but who I wanted to be).

That night I fell into bed and slept right through the night, a feat I can't remember the last time I'd achieved.

_Dream Diary #40:_

_There is a workshop full of porcelain carnival masks in various states of disrepair. And there are mirrors. And in each mirror I see myself wearing a different mask, and in each mirror I see Cedric with his arm around me._


	16. Dream

_3edPOV:_

A month passed and Hogwarts began to decorate it's halls with tinsel and heavily-baubled evergreen trees. December was fast approaching and, as the decorations began springing up and older years started making slightly secretive visits to Hogsmeade to purchase gifts for unsuspecting friends, an exited buzz spread through the warm hallways. It was going to be the Christmas holidays' in a few short weeks and everyone would have some precious time off school to play in the thick snow and catch up on much needed sleep. The whole school was breathing a sigh of relief as another term came towards a close.

But, although Hogwarts felt magical, it is the individuals in the school that truly matter. And at that moment there were two very unsettled, rather unhappy boys busying themselves in a some small room, hidden deep within the labyrinth that is Hogwarts.

Harry and Draco were on each other in a flash whenever they got the chance. No one knew about their bizarrely-dynamiced relationship because technically neither did they. They both loved each other dearly, but the other never knew - Harry was silent because he thought Draco just truly wasn't ready for a proper relationship, and Draco was silent because he felt it was the least painful option for Harry in the long run.

And so their already unstable relationship was rotting from the inside, the damp of unease flooding the plaster in the walls and slowly eroding the bricks. Yes, they fucked. And, yes, they met as often as they possibly could. But they never said a word to each other, not ever. Each boy held an underlying resentment of the other for their pains, and so they came to an unspoken mutual agreement that they would take whatever hand they were dealt and would not try and agrieviate the other by attempting to change it.

Harry had two reprieves though, which was more than he'd had before. Firstly, he talked almost ceaselessly with Luna: they talked for hours together about absolutely nothing, or complete nonsense (which in their strangely-wired brains translated to 'talking about everything'), and God knows how but they got along with each other despite their vast differences.

His second savior was Dumbledore's Army - for a few hours a week he got to pretend to be a fully-functioning, not so messed up kid. He got to stand for hours letting his hind fall into a dull sleep as he taught and re-taught the very basics of Defense Against The Dark Arts. Why people couldn't just get a simple thing like _expelliarmus_ right the first time always annoyed Harry slightly, but he would never risk the happiness he found in teaching them by telling them of their shortcomings. In DA Harry found somewhere where he could let his mind be streamlined and at peace.

And the world is starting to see Harry Potter recover from the events of his last summer, his friends can start to see his sun shining again. Even Hermione has let up analyzing every move he made and has stopped constantly checking to see if he's 'okay'. But Harry Potter, even after all these months knows he is not 'okay' - but no doubt he is better. He has relaxed, he is less tense, but still he sticks blades into his legs to calm down. Never more than three cuts at a time (he regulates it carefully) and he feels the need to cut less and less now, it only happens perhaps once a fortnight now. He is slowly fixing himself. But as long as the world is fooled and leaving him alone, he doesn't care.

So long as the world keeps spinning - as it always will - without love, they will all be satisfied.

_HarryPOV:_

_I slid like mercury across the floor - like dark, silent, maddenning murcury. The corridors were high and darker than me, I was almost invisible._

_And I was trusted, my master knew that I was where I had to be and that I would achieve what I had to achieve. Hate brewed and bubbled in my gut,_

_My target was in sight, I could see him, bright orange hair like a beacon to me dark-adjusted eyes._

_The wall felt just like the floor as I slid up it stealthily, waiting for the perfect moment for my attack to strike the intruder._

_Venom was pooling in my hungry mouth as I reared my scaled head, with a slow hiss my body tensed and readied for the strike._

_His eyes turned wide with fright as they turned upon me and realized his fate a moment too late, with a chilling grin I listened to his scream mount_

_within his chest and, a moment before it left his mouth I sunk my teeth into his soft, fresh, flesh - my throat trying to laugh, but only managing a hiss as _

_his pooled blood replaced the venom in my hungry mouth._

"ARTHUR!" the scream died on my lips as I sat bolt upright, the dark shrouding me like a coffin.

"Harry!?" Ron was by my side. "I was going to wake you, you looked like you were having a fit, I mean, I've seen you have nightmares before...but nothing like this!"

"Ron! Ron.." I was drenched in sweat as I tried to make sleepy sense of what was going on. "Ron, I need water."

He rushed away and a moment later he returned with a cool glass. I drank it quickly, my mind piecing together what was going on. Snake...Arthur...Corridors? The half-empty glass slipped from my hands as realization dawned on me.

"Ron," his bright, worried eyes turned to mine. "Take me to Dumbledore now, Arthur's...he's dying."

I felt weakness overtake my body and I don't remember much, but I guess Ron gathered the rest of his family and Hermione, and MacGonnagle was there - I remember her sharp, stern hands dragging me down dizzying corridors. Next thing my lagging brain knew I was in Dumbledore's warm, familiar office and angry, worried, scared voices where encircling me.

I spoke when I was spoken to, recounting the events of my dream to a concerned audience. Then there was another flurry of action as, I guess, help was sent off to Arthur wherever he was lying - dying.

"What's happening?" my sleepy brain uttered through my dried lips.

No one answered me.

"Was it my fault?" I asked the room. "...I was in the snake's point of view."

Again, everyone was avoiding me - the quiet center of the storm.

"LOOK AT ME!" I shouted, getting everyone's attention. "What's happening to me?"

"...I don't know..." Dumbledore said cautiously. "But I know how we can stop it happening again.

My heart sunk. Even Dumbledore didn't know what was happening - my situation felt hopeless. I sunk into a chair, sweating, scared and confused. My eyes flitting in and out of consciousness. I was vaguely aware of some more figures entering the already crowded and suffocating room. One figure - tall, with lank and greasy hair made anger flare in my heart, but I was far too exhausted to do anything about it. Dumbledore was talking to him in a hushed, rushed voice, they're eyes occasionaly glancing over at me. One last emotion before my vision turned to black - dread.

**A/N: Ooh, exiting! Sorry for another plot-building chapter everyone +_+ 'tis necessary! :D **

**Thanks for all your patience!**

**xxx**


	17. Occulmency

_HarryPOV:_

_One last emotion before my vision turned to black - dread...._

What felt like bare minutes after passing out (although I had no way of knowing) I could feel my slow, sleepy body being shaken awake and back into the glare of light and sound. My squinted eyes took in my surroundings slowly - it was still Dumbledore's office, from what I could tell most people had gone back to bed, I could only see Snape, Dumbledore and McGonagall who was the one awakening me.

"Potter," she snapped her fingers impatiently to wake me, but I could hear undertones of worry in her stern voice. "You need to listen well: what you dreamt wasn't just a dream, it was a vision from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sent to you through some psychic link between the two of you. Now, he may or may not know about this link yet but it is very important that we hide it from him. He could use it against you, Harry."

I nodded dreamily, her words taking a few moments to sink in. Snape cast me a look of dull despair.

"Potter," my attention snapped back to McGonagall. "You need to go with Severus now, he will teach you the art of occulmency, the art of hiding your mind from others. You need to trust Severus, Potter, occulmency is hard at first, your mind will ache, but he is one of the best occulmencers there is and you must learn quickly."

I looked to Dumbledore for some sort of support or encouragement but he kept his kindly face turned away from me. I felt anger rise again in my chest but Snapes cold glare stilled me.

"Come, Potter," and with that he swept out of the room, catching my arm in a surprisingly strong grip as he went.

I was half-aware of where he was taking me, but I knew I was headed towards the dungeons. I could feel Snape's sturdy grip begin to bruise my forearm but I couldn't quite find the capacity to care or protest, my mind was reeling with wanderings about this 'occulmency' and what McGonagall had said about it. It sounded like hard work. And a one-on-one lesson with Snape could never be good - for me, my detention count, or Gryffindor's house points.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by Snape abruptly letting my arm go and flinging me into a rigid, uncomfortable chair. I shifted nervously as Snape wondered around the small, dark, stone room and I felt I had every right to be afraid. The dungeons felt suffocating. Every cell in my body was screaming at me and telling me to sleep, but Snape's glare kept me rooted to the spot. Confused and scared as I was my body had enough sense to know when Snape was ready to murder, and this was probably one of those times. He finally swept around dramatically to face me -

"Minnerva explained to you about the link between yours and the Dark Lord's minds?"

I nodded nervously, my mouth too dry to talk.

"You understand that if you do not learn occulmency and He discovers this link that he will invade your mind? Read it, control it, unhinge it. He will leave you begging for death."

This was doing nothing for my fraying nerves. "Yes!" I growled.

Snape seems so imposing, all I want is something soft, something warm, not this cold, sharp room, so full of anger and nervous static.

"I will attempt to penetrate your mind, Potter. You must clear your mind and attempt to resist."

His words barely had time to register in my brain, let alone give me time to prepare myself before I heard him shout "_Ligitimens!"_

Images begun flashing past my retinas, my brain struggling to recognize each one. Six years old in cupboard playing with small toy soldiers. Eleven and there are letters raining into the house. Twelve and Fawks is healing my basilisk bite. Last year Cedric and I are sitting in private and talking. Blood soaked sheets.

I was brought back to the present by a scream. I was too terrified to realize it was my own. I was too terrified that Snape would find something out, something about me, one of my many secrets. I realized I was lying on the hard floor, a sharp pain in my head telling me that I must've fallen, I tried to pull myself up but couldn't find the strength so I settled with leaning my back against the wall and hugging my knees to my chest.

"What was that?" I croaked.

"Only a fraction of what The Dark Lord will do to your mind," he said cryptically. "Now, empty your mind."

I had only a second to think of empty white-ness before my mind was plunged back into the swirling mess of memories. Some more of my self-harm, depression and romances seeped into the mix. I was jerked out of the abyss again my a sharp pain in my side, I had fallen over again, I glanced up from the floor into Snape's expressionless eyes. I wanted to be sick, I wanted to know what he was thinking, was he able to piece together all my memories to form a solid idea of me? Whatever he knew his face alone wasn't telling me.

"I-"

"You still need a lot of practice," he told me.

"What you saw..." I realized I had no way of reasoning with Snape. "...please?" I finished lamely.

He gave me a calculating look. "Just pray the Dark Lord remains ignorant."

I nodded, not truly understanding what he was saying, but nevertheless satisfied that he wasn't screaming and shouting at me. I stood up on shakily feet, my stomach giving a sudden lurch, I rushed to the nearest sink (lucky it was a potions room) and dry retched over it. Had it really been that long since I last ate? I guessed last must've been yesterday morning, so I wasn't taking as good care of myself as I'd originally thought. My body heaved and my eyes watered, all this time I was all to concious of Snape's eyes watching over me. I turned around to face his empty stare and tried to sit down on the chair but my completely disorientated brain misjudged the distance and sent me crashing back to the floor.

Snape made an indistinguishable sound as he watched me give up on getting back to the chair.

"Potter, just go now," he hissed. "I want you back here next week and for homework you need to practice clearing your mind."

I guessed that that was Snape's twisted idea of sympathy.

"Thank you," I managed through dry lips.

Taking a moment to ready myself I pushed myself up onto my feet and swayed unsteadily out of the door. Somehow I managed to stagger up the stairs to the Gryffindor dorm rooms and collapse through the fat lady portrait, eventually falling asleep curled up of the warm hearth - not quite finding the will to climb the last flight of stairs to bed.

_Dream Diary #45_

_More of those unwanted images are flashing past my closed eyelids._

**A/N: Sorry for another short chapter, promise you it'll be the last one for a long time. And if you're getting fed up with the plot building-ness then slashy loves should return in chapter 20 :D**

**Also, just a quick heads-up that I've got exams coming up and I need to be spending a lot of time on my coursework and revision so updates may be a little slower than usual. Most exams will be over in about six weeks**

**Vxxx**


	18. Home For Chrismas

_HarryPOV:_

Judging by Kreecher's face Grimmauld Place had never been livelier than it was that Christmas Holiday: the dim and dull halls where garishly decorated in tinsel, baubles and small chirstmas trees in every room. And every room was occupied by some guest or another - the whole Weasley family was staying, along with Hermione, Sirius was there obviously, Lupin and Tonks too, Moody was knocking about somewhere, and Kingsley was there most of the time. And then there was me. I felt very much like a third wheel, I needed a partner there for me, just someone to share thoughts and little meaningful in-jokes with, and I missed Cedric and I missed Draco and I wished for nothing but some sort of constant home that would be with me always. I wanted a lover.

Obviously, the Weasleys all tried to make me as much at home as possible. They where all so grateful for me saving Arthur it was becoming sort of painful to constantly be smiling and reassuring them that they owed me nothing for it. In truth I worry so much about this 'connection' with Voldemort, and my hopelessness at Occulmency, I really don't need them constantly reminding me of it even if they don't know it. How could I tell them that Voldemort may well be able to see everything I see, make me do things I don't want to do despite my resistance to _imperio_? No, I would have to grin and bear it and let my thoughts fester quietly.

That Christmas wasn't entirely bad. In fact, despite all my internal angst, it was probably one of the best Christmas' I'd had so far. It was the first time I'd spent the holidays with a family - sure, it was a completely dysfunctional, bizarre and non-blood-related family of mine, but I loved each and every one of those people who sat at that cozy table on that cold twenty-fifth of December, and although I didn't have everything I needed, I was getting damned near close to being whole. I felt marvelous: my stomach heavy with roast dinner, my cheeks aching with laughter, surrounded by friends...it was only when I went upstairs to sleep that the demons came again.

In that lonely room my mind had time to wonder, and it inevitably wondered back to thoughts of Cedirc, Draco, Draco, Cedric, the dream, Voldemort's rising, Voldemort's plans, Draco, The Order, Cedric...

It wasn't until the day after the day after Christmas that I got a chance to talk to Sirius properly, a conversation I'd been itching to have. I was wondering around Grimmauld Place randomly, imagining it as a haunt for dark wizards and thinking about nothing in particular. Stepping absentmindedly into a big, green and unusually empty room I almost tripped over the hunched, withered figure of Kreecher.

"Filthy mudbloods and blood traitors traipsing through the home of Kreecher's mistress," he grimaced at me.

"Uh, sorry," I mumbled, not really paying much attention and stepping past him into the room.

"How dare you think you have the right to just enter any room at your filthy leisure!" Kreecher almost screeched, but it came out far too scratchy.

"Kreecher!" a voice boomed from the hallway, Sirius entered the room shooing the house elf away. "Away with you!"

"Yes master," the old elf bowed begrudgingly, glaring at Sirius as he left.

"Sorry about that," he smiled. "How are you, anyway?"

I really had missed him, where did I begin? So much had happened, so much I wanted to tell him, so much I didn't want to tell him but felt that I should. I felt momentarily overwhelmed with all the thoughts buzzing around my usually careful head that I didn't quite know what to do with myself. At a loss for words I stepped forwards and gave him a great hug, mumbling "missed you," in there somewhere. He seemed taken aback for a moment, but wrapped his arms around me protectively, making me feel about eight years old and tiny.

"Hey," he said soothingly. "You know you should write me more..." I don't think he quite knew what to say.

"Don't think I can, Umbridge is probably monitoring the owls," I sighed.

I think in that that was entirely true, in truth I think I hadn't been writing as much because I didn't have anything I could really safely say. For whole weeks I felt like I was literally rotting from the inside out. How do you say that to the one relative of yours still surviving? A poor man who couldn't leave his house because he could be killed on false charges. I just couldn't do that to him.

"What's all this on the walls?" I asked, motioning to the strange patterns on the slytherin-green to change the subject.

"Oh, this is my family tree," Sirius smiled forlornly, his fingers resting on a burnt patch of wall. "This was where I was."

I smiled, "It's probably better that you've not got pride of place on that wall, it shows you're a better person than that."

"Yes, I suppose so..." he drifted off absentmindedly. "You know, when my parents threw me out, I went to stay with your dad. James took me in," he smiled brightly at me. "Every time I see you you get more and more like him, you're far more like him than you know, I see so much of them in you."

I loved hearing things like this about my parents, it made them feel almost real.

"Thank you," I paused for a moment. "But, Sirius, you could be wrong...you know that dream that saved Arthur?"

"Hmmm...?"

"Well, I," I took a deep breath and just rushed out with it. "I was seeing it from the snake's point of view, there's some of Voldemort inside me - I can feel it. Afterwards I felt so, so angry, and so cold. And in the dream, the blood - I _loved_ the blood. What's happening?"

I felt sick as I looked into Sirius' shocked, uncomposed eyes. Could it really be that bad? Could we never be a family after all? I mean, I wasn't safe...

However, I was not expecting Sirius to burst out laughing. "Harry, of course your not evil just because of some mind-link!" he grinned. "What matters about that dream is that you used it to save Arthur, you didn't let him die, see? You used something dark within you for good."

"But next time it could not be so lucky."

"Harry, there is good and bad within all of us," he looked deep into my eyes. "Understand that it is not whether we are dominated by light or dark, it is simply what we choose to act on. I'll trust you to make all the right choices about that."

A smile slowly spread to my face as my anxiousness evaporated. "Thank you," I said in earnest and hugged Sirius again.

I really did miss him and his wise words when I was in Hogwarts I thought as I drifted off to go have a shower, I really couldn't wait until the war was over and Sirius would be my family.

With Sirius' kind words floating around my head and the weeks plodding on in a gently, soothing pace, my stay in Grimmauld Place was starting to feel beneficial. I could feel my brain relax for what felt like the first time in months. I found myself going for more rambles around the house, letting myself sink into the reprieve of my thoughts, once again feeling safe exploring my own mind. It gave me a wonderful opportunity to think. On these rambles I would inevitably run into some people and stop for a quick chat, but on one of these occasions this person happened to be Lupin.

"Hi, Harry," Lupin was friendly, but his posture was blocking any easy escape for me.

This was a conversation I knew was coming, but was putting it off for as long as possible. Because this conversation would have no lies, no protection for his of my feelings - because he already knew most of the truth. I had to be careful about what I said.

"Hello," I said amiably, leaning my back on the wall deciding to make this as painless as possible.

"You know we need to talk properly about what I...what I saw last summer. You where a mess that summer, everyone knows that: tell me honestly how you're doing?"

"I'm fine," I reassured him. "I'm not at the Dursley's, so there's been no...abuse to worry about."

That didn't seem to satisfy him. "Are you still wearing the glamor?"

"No," I lied outright, on the spot, not even thinking.

"Prove it?"

"What?"

"Cast a glamor-removal spell over yourself, then I'll believe that no _physical_ harm has come to you."

So that meant that he was still harboring thoughts of me suffering metaphysical harm. I didn't bother protesting - it was at this moment that I'd been gladdest that I'd been anticipating this conversation, for the last month or so I hadn't made a single cut on immediately visible skin. So it was with no qualms that I murmured the spell and showed Lupin that 'nothing was wrong'.

"See?" I challenged him.

"Fine, that's good," he smiled at me. "How are you feeling though?"

I decided the truth was better this time. "Honestly, I still miss Cedric a lot, but the ache is more dull, y'know - more familiar. I don't think it will go away, but I think it will get better. I've sort of started dating someone else..." I didn't want to say more.

"Another boy?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I don't want to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because..." I had to think of a reasonable excuse. "Because I'm not sure about him yet, I think we both like each other more than we're willing to say."

He nodded. "I understand. It's good to know that you're feeling better, but don't think this is the last of our 'serious chats'!" he threatened lightheartedly, pulling me into a warm hug. "I'll leave you alone now," he smiled.

"Thank you," I smiled back at his retreating figure.

And all too soon the Holidays where ending and I was getting ready for my last night at the Headquarters, my trunk ready and packed, sitting at the foot of my bed - like a little promise for the morning, waiting for me. As much as I loved my time here, and was sad to see it end - Hogwarts still felt like my real home and I strangely missed it. I wanted to get back to the endless corridors, endless faces, endless memories and...Draco.

Back on the Hogwarts Express after a close-to-tears farewell to all the members of The Order and sitting in a warm carriage on the rickety steam train I felt hope begin to rise in my chest. There had to be something to look forward to this term. I bet that Dumbledore's Army will have improved slightly, and I wonder how Draco will be. I wonder if we'll talk much, there's so many possibilities. I wonder if more people have come to accept that Voldemort has returned. I hope....

As the train came to a stop at Hogsmead station and the students started spilling out of the open doors and meandering towards the awaiting castle, I waited a while, not wanting to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of the teaming platform. When the crowd had thinned slightly I climbed down to the platform, lugging my heavy trunk behind me. Glancing up and around the platform I spotted a head of platinum blond hair. As Draco turned slightly, not noticing me, I flashed him a wide grin without even thinking about it. And, upon noticing me, he was caught off guard, because he grinned back before catching himself and composing his face into a familiar smirk. I just smiled, it was cute that he thought I hadn't noticed.

Perhaps this term would hold all the promise I had daydreamed...


	19. Seduction

**A/N: Well, hasn't it been forever! *_* I'm so super-sorry about the great computer fail of 2010, thank you all for being so understanding and supportive - let us move on and never speak of it again. I hope you like it, you lovely people deserve a lovely update!**

**Vxxx**

_DracoPOV:_

It was good to see Harry looking healthier, and good to see that unguarded look of happiness he gave me, it meant that something was looking up for him. But it was irresponsible for me to return that look - I need to be more careful. But I'd had such a lonely, rubbish Christmas Holiday that I think I really needed his smile, I really needed to see someone's honest smile so unlike my father's. My fathers smile was full of second-guessing and scheming, it was a smile you never trusted, or ever underestimated. After weeks of him pushing me to do better at school, support Umbridge (she was powerful, and father wants me to be powerful), to demean Dumbledore's authority, push Harry for information, study hard play hard. I don't know what I want anymore. But I _must_ remember to be more careful, Harry and I certainly aren't ready for so much attention.

Anyway, the information I was to push for was 'what was he planning?' I had direct orders from Umbridge, and from my father, and I didn't have a fucking clue what to do. Mulling it over in my head on my walk from Umbridge's putrid pink office to the Slytherin Dorms the threats and promised rewards where ringing through my mind. Umbridge had promised me Head Boy and other positions of power, ministry pardons for my family...but it was the threats from father that where most convincing. I was promised that Voldemort would be angry if I did nothing with this opportunity, I was assured that my life would be made hell and a hell of a lot shorter if I didn't get this, or something resembling the information that they wanted.

Climbing into the shower so I could be fresh when I met with Harry I concluded that I would have to get the information out of him, in anyway possible. He would hate me. I was sure of it. But I would rather that than me be dead, that would probably be more destructive for Harry than if I was just a betraying little bastard. Anyway, I'd have to find some opportunity to explain later, there would be another chance for our relationship. God, I hope so.

By the time I met up with Harry outside the entrance to the hidden room that we'd first _properly_ been together in I'd concocted a plan, and an alternative accompanied by an array of convenient excuses where any of them to be found out. Our eyes met briefly, I opened the secret opening in the wall and we entered in silence. Once the wall had closed behind us I spun around, pinning him back to the wall, my mouth descending on his and opening with his I let the liquid I'd held in my mouth pour into his. He spluttered on the veritiserum as he instinctively swallowed and pulled out of the kiss.

I calmly went to lounge on a large sofa, feeling his accusatory glare in the back of my head.

"What was that?" he snapped once I was seated and facing him.

"What was what?" I asked innocently.

"That...it tasted like," he sighed and shook his head. "Never mind," me mumbled absentmindedly.

"Hey," I smiled, patting the sofa. "I really missed you, you know. And I've realized that we need to talk properly. Come and sit down?"

He smiled and relaxed slightly, he sat down draping his legs over mine, I sighed softly in relief. The last thing I needed was him questioning me about what I'd done, best he just forgot about it for now...

"So," I toyed absentmindedly with his hair (with the amount of veritiserum I'd given him we where in no rush). "How was your holiday?"

And so we talked for a long time, the secrets spilling forwards from his mouth, but I didn't exploit it - no, I tried to keep my questions vague but unsuspecting, I just needed the information about "whatever he was planning", that was all. But he told me so, so much on the route there: I learned that Sirius is his godfather and being protected by Dumbledore in some secret location, I learned that they know what Voldemort wants. He told me a lot of personal things too: about Cedric and him, about how he's been feeling, his self-harm taking root in Umbridge's office (which made me particularly sick), about how he just wants for everything to go away. I learned far too much.

But eventually he told me about this 'Dumbledore's Army' and where they met, the only question left was for me now - what to do with this information? I decided to steer the conversation into far less dangerous waters, I decided that it was finally time to talk about _us_ and now Harry seemed perfectly delighted to talk with me.

"You know, I think we should be more serious..." he said, now lying on my chest, his chin resting over my heart beat and emerald eyes looking strait up into mine.

"Oh, yeah? How?" I smiled, he looked so cute from this angle.

He pouted. "Talk like this more, be more open, more honest with each other, perhaps we should tell some people...?"

Never talk like this again I thought, never again am I fucking using veritiserum. He was being so honest with me, but I couldn't tell him a thing - I, I loved him too much for that, to hurt him like that. It would, I thought, almost be kinder to beat information out of him then get it as slyly as this, when his brain clears of the haze he'll be beating himself up over this - I have no doubts about it. I can't betray him, I mustn't tell anyone what he told me; he wants us to be for real and...and so do I.

I ran my hand through his unruly hair. "Yes, yes we should...but let's get to know each other first before we tell anyone. I have a feeling it won't go down so well.." I smiled, imagining crowds of shocked faces.

He giggled a little. "Hmm...I suppose...but you agree right? New year, new page okay?" he jumped up suddenly so he was leaning over me. "Pinky promise we'll do better this year then last?" he held up his hand between us.

I laughed, "Here's to the new year," I held up my hand and our little fingers twisted together, he squeezed slightly before letting go.

"And many more to come..."

Then we where kissing, his tongue delving over mine from his vantage point above me. I could taste his confusion over his usual flavor - the veritiserum was starting to wear off. I had to turn the tables quick, let him down slowly, the last thing I wanted was him crashing.

I flipped us over, finally feeling his laugh through the kiss, as I fumbled with his shirt buttons as his hands pulled apart my belt. Finally getting his shirt open was like breathing a sigh of relief - immediately my lips where upon the freshly exposed flesh, exploring it like it was new, the landscape arching into my mouth as I grazed sensitive areas. He grabbed my shirt, wrenching me up and away from him the powerplay briefly falling in his favor as he pulled at my buttons, eventually giving up and tugging the shirt off over my shoulders. I dropped down towards him, flesh against flesh once more, his fingers digging half moons into my skin as our clothed erections brushed.

I jumped up, pulling off my already unfastened trousers as he undid his and then, whilst I was up, pulled his off for him. Climbing back onto the sofa I licked a clumsy line up his body as mine moved against it, stopping at his neck and biting, distracting his racing neurones as I hurriedly prepared him, his nails now scratching delicious train tracks in my back and sides.

"Fuck it," he shook his clearing head. "Fuck me."

He clambered around, sitting, slightly raised on his knees, his hands now digging into the expensive upholstery in front of him. I slid in slightly.

"Ready?" I asked breathlessly.

He didn't reply but simply slid all the way down my length, letting out a strangled whimper and making me groan and buck uncontrolablly. Breathing heavily I steadied myself and grabbed his hips, thrusting blindly in and out until I felt myself come and soon before, or soon after, it was hard to tell, I felt Harry come and collapse back into me. He shifted around me until he was lying curled up in my arms, my body instinctively curled protectively around his smaller form and relaxed. We said not a word as we fell asleep entwined and lost in each other and each other's bodies.

_HarryPOV:_

What had I done? Sat at the heaving breakfast table that morning, everything around me seemed to still. I did something terrible, didn't I? My mind raced to recall - why was I so disorientated? What couldn't I remember? What had I _done_? I took a deep breath..okay, I told myself, start from the last thing you remember and work from there. Alright, I remember waking up this morning back in my bed, that's not unusual, Draco and I hardly ever fall asleep together, one of us always moves the other. So then, we had sex that night, I blushed a little thinking of it. And before sex? We talked, didn't we? About, about us. Us as a couple and we made some decisions, I don't remember what they where, but I remember being happy about them. So, before that we where talking about...talking about, oh, I don't know!

I put my head in my hands and glared at my toast for lack of anything better to do. What was I missing? I know it's important, I know I need to remember! All I remember is us talking, the words are a buzz, but it was so nice to talk to him properly. I remember feeling so open with him, like it was all okay. Yes, I'm sure everything's going to be okay. It has to be...

That night the Dumbledore's Army meeting was going well - I was teaching everyone the patronus charm and, although many of them struggled with it, they where all happy trying to find their best memories. And the looks on the faces on those that succeeded was fantastic, the delight on their faces when they found the right memory and when they discovered their true soul animal...well, it was simply beautiful. But, underneath the cheer I could feel the subtle, creeping undertones of dread. Something was out of place.

My unease must've shown because a few people asked me if I was okay, but I simply brushed them off and they assumed it was down to 'Harry being Harry' (they're probably getting used to my changeable moods and bursts of depression, they've had to deal with me being like this now for, months). Nevertheless, I tried shaking the feeling off but there was always that niggling feeling in the back of my brain, burning like someone's glare was hitting me from behind. I sighed. What was I missing?

As the lesson begun to wind down I thought I felt the earth shake. Glancing around the room I saw that a couple of others where looking around curiously, as if they felt it. And there it was again. We all felt it that time, we bunched in the center of the room, wands drawn. The next shake was more centeralized to the far wall and with the next few hits the mirror mounted on the wall begun to crack and shatter. The shakes where more like smashes now, or rumbles. And finally the mirror smashed to the floor, reveling the fractured stones beneath it, as we watched small chunks broke away from the wall - crashing to the ground atop the shards of mirror. The next crash was not a crash, it was a blast and the wall gave one final, almighty groan before letting the whole middle section collapse in a pile of dust and dirt.

As the clouds of dust cleared I could begin to see shapes forming. And I felt sick, deep in the pit of my stomach as realization finally dawned upon me. The lost memories rushed back to me with a glimpse of pink through the dissipating gray dust. Everything. _Everything._ I had told him everything, hadn't I? What was I thinking? I could feel the bile rise in my throat: I had no idea what was going to happen now, but I had no doubt whatsoever that it was my fault. _I_ was responsible for whatever happened to my, my friends. They would hurt now. All because I _trusted_ him - and I trusted him, why? Because I was lonely, depressed, and...and he was there. Just because he was there, and he made me feel good again. _Idiot!_

I felt shore to collapse as all the figures stepped through the gaping hole in the wall - Umbridge, flanked by Filch and, and Draco, who was in turn, closely encircled with his Slytherin buddies and other members of Umbridge's little organization. How could he stand there knowing he did this to me?

Through my seemingly endless rage and despair I found strength to look Draco straight in the eye, I wanted to see the scorn there so I could show him mine, and show him that I wasn't afraid and that he would regret this. But there was no scorn or mockery in his cold eyes, there was...well, nothing. His eyes where blank and glazed, he looked...empty. What was he playing at?

"Get them!" I heard Umbridge screech.

My brain was far to out of itself to notice when the Slytherin's burst forwards and, grabbing me in an arm lock, dragged me from the room. I was far too busy staring into Draco's eyes to protest when my friends where herded out of that room, and went defeatedly.


	20. His Army

_HarryPOV:_

I was silent and didn't struggle. It's not that I'd given up, no - I was stunned. Stunned into compete compliance. How could he do that? Was this his plan from the beginning? No, it was far too elaborate for something like this; and besides, I'd been with him since before Dumbledore's Army, so he must've been planning something bigger. I needed time to think, time I wasn't going to get soon. Draco, what are you up to?

His cruel, blank expression stayed burned into my vision as I let myself be frogmarched up corridors until I realized we where outside the entrance to Dumbledore's office. My arms where aching from the Slytherin thugs' strong grip on them and my brain was feeling hazy. But I had enough sense to know that this was a bad thing - that Umbridge was taking this up with Dumbledore, and that this was going to be her check-mate move in their complex power play over the school, and I hoped that Dumbledore had some way out planned. And I also had enough sense to know that I needed to save any strength I had left for a rebellion, when ever that would be.

Dumbledore's office was a stale shade of silent as I was dragged out of the lift by my Slytherin escorts. Umbridge's curt face was there, along with Fudge's suspicious character, Kingsley was acting shifty and then there was Percy who grabbed my arm as soon as the Slytherins had been asked to leave. I looked up at the tall, silent figure that now grabbed my arm in a bruising hold and it was sad; that was my best friend's older brother, and look at him now. A brief memory of the few summers I'd spent with the Weasleys and Percy, and how sad Mr and Mrs Weasley where when they found out their son's opinion of them flashed through my brain before dumping me back in the equally dismal-looking present.

"Minister," Umbridge's shrill voice rang out through the silence. "I have found you proof of Dumbledore's bid to overthrow you and seize control of the ministry."

Dumbledore raised a discreet eyebrow at the accusation, but other than acting mildly amused, he didn't react.

"Well?" Fudge asked, clearly interested.

"For the past few months this man," she pointed a stubby finger at Dumbledore. "Has been employing Potter to train specially selected students to form an army." She swelled with sick pride at her declaration as she drew out a long document that I instantly recognized as the Dumbledore's Army register.

"Well, is it true?" Fudge asked after quickly scanning the parchment.

"So it seems, you've caught me red-handed," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with silent amusement.

"You, you have been planning an uprising using the students," Fudge was getting more and more outraged.

"Yes, as you can see."

I couldn't stand by and just dumbly let this happen, Dumbledore needed to stay here, or who knows what could happen.

"It was me! I made the army!" I shouted.

Percy shook me roughly to shut me up and Umbridge turned her death-glare on me.

"Is this true?" she thrilled at Dumbledore.

"Ah, that's very noble of Harry, but as you can see, the document clearly says _Dumbledore's Army_ not 'Potter's Army'," all trace of joking from his voice was gone. Dumbledore wanted me to stay silent.

"Very well," said Fudge delightedly. "I am hereby arresting you for charges of conspiracy and sedition. You will be placed in Azkaban until the time of your trial."

"Now, it seems that here we fall down," Dumbledore backed away a little. "You seem to be under the impression that I would...come quietly. But, I assure you, I have no intention of going to Azkaban."

"Seize him!" the minister cried.

But it was too late, in a flash of blinding white-orange light and flames Dumbledore dissappeared, leaving nothing but ashes and the stunned ministry officials in his wake. I blinked through the light, just about making out the unmistakeable form of Fawks and smiled sadly; there must be some hope.

But then the guilt set into my gut: what _would_ happen to Hogwarts now that Dumbledore was indefinitely gone? There was no doubt the Umbridge would move smoothly from High Inquisitor to Headmistress, and that would mean some sudden, sickening changes. But what exactly? How far would the minister let her go? One thing I was sure of was that Hogwarts would go to shit: without Dumbledore half of the school's security would vanish over night, and the students would become cowed, and would magic be be disbanded in all lessons?

Whatever had happened or was about to happen I could rest assured that it was not good for anyone and that it was, to an extent, my fault. My fault - for being so headstrong and self-confident that I thought that I could train people. Sickening that it was because of my poorly placed trust in an enemy, in Draco, that lead to the collapse of the school. my naiveity, my idiocy...why did I trust myself to trust him?

I barely slept that night, and what little I did sleep was light. I was too far engrossed in my own wallowing self-pity that I didn't even notice the slow ticking of time until it was almost five AM, by which point I decided there was little point trying to get any proper sleep, so I returned to my desperate attempts at finding loop-holes in Umbridge's imminent takeover of the school and then returning to misery, steeling myself and re-starting the whole affair again.

I showered at seven and was ready to go to breakfast that morning as everyone else was awakening. I waited impatiently in the common room for Ron and Hermione to be dressed and ready before going downstairs amongst the usual rabble of hungry morning students eager for breakfast. But the noise dropped to silence as we student body entered the Great Hall: as predicted, Mrs Umbridge sat in Dumbeldore's large chair in the center of the staff table, she looked proud and alert, leaving no question in anyone's mind that she ran things now. Breakfast was silent and brooding. And if there where any questioners, their doubts where quickly dispelled when, outside the hall, a notice was put up declaring Umbridge as Headmistress. I sighed miserable, staring at the final-looking script. The whole school already missed Dumbledore, and it was my fault.

By the time dark fell that evening and students where making their ways back to sleepy dorm rooms all of the decorative art had been removed from the halls, the ghosts where no where to be seen and the silence from breakfast seemed to have had settled in people's bones, making everything feel brittle, dry and dull. We missed Dumbledore and Hogwarts felt empty and I felt empty because I hated Draco and, more importantly, I hated me.

**A/N: Ahh, I know it's short. But it's another plot worker-oner :P Next one should be mahoosive, promise ^_^**

**Vxxx**


	21. Hogwarts Is Cold

_3edPOV:_

Every night the large front doors would deadbolt shut exactly on curfew. The large clanging, sliding bolts would seem to add a more definitive silence to the already silent hallways. And everything was quiet, more quiet than anyone could ever remember it being, even in the height of the day, when the school was teeming with the usual rush of students between lessons, the bustle was more subdued than it was before, everything felt cordoned and controlled. So, night time was eerie. Eerily quiet, save for the scratching coming from the Great Hall.

It was the unsynchronised, mess of scratch, wince, scribble, scratch, wince. A hall full of students, each armed with one of Umbridge's torturous quills carving the reminder that they _Must obey the rules_ into the backs of their hands. The only steady noise in the hall: a stern click-clack of stubby heels on the stone floor - stubby pink heels on a stubby woman that wore them with pride and an almost royal demeanor as she stalked around the hall, smiling haughtily at the suffering students.

They where angry. When they weren't soldering on with their cruel task, they took a moment to exhale and glare at her back, their glares laced with the promise of revenge, they would work something out. Inside their heads, otherwise emptied by pain, they where planning something wicked for when the time came. All except Harry, who chose for now to loose himself in the excuse for pain and think about the mistakes he had made, and reminisce of more golden times. His time for plotting would come, but for then he was far too miserable to give a damn.

But the punished and belittled Dumbledore's Army winced every wince as one, and sighed at every new line together. And together they would find a way to raise to the ground this proud autocrat that had forced this upon them.

_DracoPOV:_

I waited all evening for him, hiding in one of the dark doorways just outside the Great Hall, like some lovesick teenager. I waited until night had truly fallen and wrapped it's sleepy tendrils around the castle for that awful noise of wincing and scratching to stop. I could feel every sigh of pain - I was so, so, unimaginably sorry. The feeling of relief that flooded through me when Umbridge's trill voice ordered them to stop was one like never before. I sunk closer to the floor as the subdued Dumbledore's Army filed quietly out of the large doors and off to nurse their wounds and get some sleep.

Harry was one of the last to leave, he was comforting some small boy who can't have been older than a Third Year. I felt wretched. Waiting for the boy to walk off a few paces I silently grabbed Harry's arm. He looked at me, his eyes cold and angry, I motioned for him to 'please come with me'. He hesitated for a moment.

"Colin, I'll see you in the morning, I need to sort something out," he called ahead to the boy.

Colin looked back but I was well-hidden in the deep shadows, Harry motioned at him to go (I noticed him wince a little as he moved his hand) and the boy left. Did I mention how terribly guilty I felt?

I gently led Harry into the empty classroom, careful not to touch him too much - I knew all too well that when something went wrong for Harry he got angry at himself, so who knew how many cuts and bruises he had decorated his body in. His eyes seemed to be unfocused, and he was swaying slowly on his feet. Perhaps I had underestimated the state he was in.

"Harry, we need to talk," I said.

He slumped forwards into my arms. I huffed, not expecting the sudden weight. I lowered him gently into the closest chair, supporting his head with my hands.

"What've you done to yourself?" I asked, shaking my head with worry.

"Never enough," he said. "I'll be fine...I, I, it just hurts."

"Idiot."

"Tell me something I don't know," he smiled grimly.

"I will," I said. "I didn't tell Umbridge what you told me," he was listening now. "I mean, at first I planned to, but then you where so...well, I didn't want to. But she had a suspicion that I knew something, she threatened me at first, but I didn't give in. But, Harry, she gave me veritiserum, she slipped it into my tea, and by the time I woke up it was too late. And, and I just want to say that I am so, so sorry. I am so sorry that I wasn't more careful, that I wasn't stronger, that I couldn't help you like I wanted to, and-"

"Draco," he interrupted.

"Yes, Harry?" I looked earnestly into his eyes.

"Fuck off," he said quietly.

It was almost a whisper but his vehemence was clear; underneath the cowed exterior, he was boiling with rage at me, and I needed to tread carefully if he was ever going to believe me, or even (dare I hope for it) forgive me.

"Please, Harry, you have to believe me - I don't know how I can prove it to you, but I was forced to give her that information. Honestly Harry," I was so close to begging.

"Like I was forced to give you the information in the first place?" he asked slyly.

"Yes. No. Oh, Harry stop this," I was at a loss. "Harry - you need me: I make you feel wanted, I understand you, I don't expect any great feats from you. And I need you-"

"Oh, really, Draco? What exactly _do_ you need me for?"

_Information. Harry, I love you._

"I. I can't tell you," I hung my head, knowing I had already lost. "Please, just trust me for now?"

"Stop it, Draco, stop it, stop it" he still hadn't shouted at me.

He got up from his chair and started pacing the room, his hands on his temples, pacing rapidly like some caged animal. I watched him for a few moments, my heart getting more and more frantic for him. I didn't know what to do. He looked so, so frantic - like he was going to hyperventilate at any moment, his hands where clasping at his head and hair.

In a last ditch attempt to help him I grabbed the sides of his head, pulling him towards me I kissed him. My eyes screwed shut, my head swimming, my closed lips pressing against his closed lips until his breathing slowed a little. Then I let him go.

"There..." I sighed, letting stillness fall once again in the room.

"You know, you're a very special type of bastard," his green eyes flashed in anger and he fled.

The door slammed behind him. A physical barrier between us. I felt the looming tears of frustration, regret and ...helplessness finally well and overflow my stormy eyes. Burying my face in my skittish hands I concluded that that had all gone as well as could have been expected. I let out a tear-choked sob and begun the battle for self control.

_HarryPOV:_

I sighed, closing my eyes, as I lent against the back of the portrait as I stepped into the warm common room, taking a moment to calm myself before pasting on my smile. I didn't say anything as I flopped down into the sofa next to Ron and Hermione. There where a few other Gryffindoors still up, but most of them where first and second years who where innocently playing chess in a corner, the older ones quickly dispersed as they saw that I'd arrived safe and, I guess, relatively normal.

"Where where you, then?" Ron asked, reclining slightly.

"I, uh, I was just taking a moment to get my head together, you know," I said noncholantly, keeping my face slightly in the shadows so I didn't have to work so hard to keep it steady and unwavering.

"Really?" gosh, why did Hermione have to constantly question this stuff? Ron seemed happy enough.

"Why? You don't believe me?" I snapped.

"Harry," she put her hand gingerly on my arm. "Harry, you're crying."

I stopped. My hand flying up to my face, and, true enough it came away damp.

"Shit," I murmured.

I had had no idea that I'd been crying, but thinking about it, it was a natural response to all the emotions raging inside of me. The question was, how would I explain this away? I decided to look away again and wait for someone else to say something.

"She..." Hermione paused to take a shaky breath, I must've looked a fright. "She made you do that before didn't she? When you had detentions with her...that quill...?" She subconsciously rubbed the back of her hand.

I still didn't turn around, not really sure if I _was_ crying because of that or because of Draco. I just wanted to sleep and sort my head out. I decided to nod, it was better than explaining everything about Draco. I felt Hermione wind her arms around my waist, hugging me warmly, I sighed and let my muscles relax a little.

"Why didn't you tell us?" I heard Ron splutter.

I was going to mumble some sort of shit excuse, but Hermione got there first.

"Shh, Ron," she said, one of her arms leaving me and (I'm assuming) going to hold Ron's hands. "Those few months were very...tough for you, weren't they? (I nodded) So, don't tell us now, now you need to sleep. We're here for you whenever you want to talk."

This time I felt the tears leave my eyes. Hermione must've felt my chest heave and lungs rattle because she let go of me and I stumbled up the stairs to the boys' dorm. Once there I collapsed into bed, cast a silencing spell and blindly let my feelings go.


	22. It's Dark In Here

**A/N: Thanks for waiting guys :) Here you go!**

**Vxx**

_HarryPOV:_

At breakfast I stared into my cornflakes swimming in unappatising milk like it was a pensieve that would hold the key to the universe. I felt rotten and was determind to make sure everyone knew. I had the guilt piling up on me, my battling emotions about Draco to deal with and, on top of that, I had my tourturous Occulmency lesson with Snape to endure that evening.

"Harry, you did everything you could to help. What happened wasn't your fault," Haemione burst out, clearly unable to take the silence.

"I went along with your fucking stupid plan, that made things worse," I snapped.

Hermione ignored the jibe. "It's better than not trying at all. You've enabled lots of people to fight if they need to..."

"But now Dumbledore's gone and Umbridge is Headmistress and everyone's miserable and it's my fault!"

"No, Harry..." Hermione said softly reaching out to hold my arm. "You did-"

"I don't want to play this game anymore," I said, snatching my arm back and cutting her off. "All it does is make you care too much, the more you care the more you have to lose...maybe it's just better to..."

"To do what, Harry?" Hermione asked, sharp as ever.

"Leave it," I snapped, abandoning my breakfast and stalking out ouf the great hall before my memories could overflow the careful boudries I'd set in my mind.

I managed to steady myself before they overflew, I really didn't need Cedric's face filling my mind right now. Or Draco's for that matter. I just needed to give myself some rest and space. I almost laughted at the notion, I would never get ether of those things today because today was Occulemency.

So that night, after an uneventful day, I made my way down the dark, dreary and all-too-familiar-for-my-liking dungeon corridoor towards Snape's office where my almost weekly Occulmency lesosns had been taking place. I slid through the door, annoyed to see Snape already there and waiting - sighing, even the smell of the room now filled me only with the angry memories of past lessons. I sat on my hard wooden chair slowly, as if that could stop what was coming.

Flash. My memories where playing: my parents in the Mirror of Erised, but I smashed the mirror, and I can see sex, the sex I'd had with the two loves of my life, and giant dining room tables, me as a child staring up at them with hungry eyes. My memories where infected: I could always see Snape in them, sometimes out of the corner of my eye, sometimes glaring at me from the center of the image. Then it stopped. Stopped once again by the cold stone floor.

"STOP IT!" I shouted, dragging myself up for what felt like the hundreth time that night. "We're not getting anywhere with this!"

"Potter, you have to realise that every memory you have is mine, and the Drak Lord's too, if you don't master occulmency," Snape warned.

_Memories are all I have, please don't take them._ Outloud I simply said, "I want to go to sleep."

"You're just like your father," Snape spat. "Arrogant...and weak."

"Don't say that about him! I'm not weak!" _have you not been looking at my memories? Can't you see that I can not do this?_

"Legitimens!"

More flashes of my past: grasping the triwizard cup. First trip on the Hogwarts Express. Dementors. Lupin. First Divination class. Dumbledores Army meeting...All now infected and rotten, Snape implanting himself around my mind.

"Stop it! Please!" This time I didn't even bother rising from the floor. "Please let me rest..."

Suddenly Snape was towering over me, shouting. "You blithering child! What? You want life to be fair?" his tone was now mocking. "Well, life isn't fair, Potter, your father-"

"Not another word about my father!" I interrupted him, my anger giving me strength, I stood up. "Don't you dare say another word about him."

Snape hissed at me. "Legitimens!"

I was sick of this bullshit, sick of having to go down here every week. "Protego!" I shouted out in my anger and my rage, reflecting the spell back into Snape's stunned face.

Snape's memory seemed more controlled than mine, and it was like wading through water as I followed a yound Severus Snape (perhaps my age) through the Hogwarts grounds. Oddly enough, it felt effortless to follow him as he quick-marched along the green near the lake where stray trees from the Forbidden Forest begun to crop up. He looked upset, but I didn't feel pity for him - in fact, I didn't feel much of anything at all - I was oddly removed from the situation playing out before me.

"Hey, Snivellus!" the voice that shouted was mocking and over-confident.

I turned as Snape did towards the source of the shout and stopped dead. Snape looked sick, a strong sense of nervousnes was radiating out from him as he saw the teenaged James Potter stride towards him. Flanking him where the younger versions of Sirius, Lupin and the disgusting rat, Pettigrew. I still didn't feel much towards anyone now in the scene, all I could feel in the memory where odd, dulled senses of what I guess where Snape's emotions.

There was giggling coming from the slowly assembled crowd as my father approached Snape who slowly backed away.

"Expelliarmus," the spell came from James and Snape's wand was flung to the side.

The giggling grew into creuel, childish chanting as James wore a proud smirk on his face. I couldn't hear the next spell over the shouts, but I knew it came from Sirius and Snape was being suspended up-side-down in the air. I could see my father, Lupin, Sirius - they where egging on the crowd, gathering them for some humiliating finale.

"ENOUGH!" Snapes shout shook me out of his memory. "Enough!"

I felt myself stumble back, he caught me by the collar of my shirt and held my now frail-feeling body just above the ground. What just happened? I felt my mind racing, trying to catch up with all the emotions I should've been feeling as I was watching. Pity, sorrow, anger...what where they doing to Snape? Surely they had a reason...?

"Your lessons are at an end," Snape almost whispered.

"I - I'm sorry, I didn't, don't -" my lips shivered and I couldn't form a cohereant sentence, let alone a linear apology.

"Get out."

With that he let me go and I fell back on to the floor. Scrambling up, by lips shivering out some sort of apology I couldn't descipher as my brain struggled to catch up with what I had just witnessed. My hand found the handle for the door and blindly pulled it open, slamming it shut behind me I took a deep breath as I leaned back against the damp stone wall and closed my eyes for a moment. Count to ten.

My father was a common bully, then? No, Snape must have done something to him first, something to trigger that response, something I didn't see...? Maybe it was a false memory, but I don't know what false memories look like. And everyone else was chanting, why where they chanting if Snape had done something to piss my dad off? He was just a bully, wasn't he?

I slammed my fists into the stone, not knowing what else to do, I felt hot tears of anger and confusion leak from my eyes as the world seemed to swim in front of me. Fuck this. I stumbled and sent my fists slamming again and again in to the hard, unforgiving stone of the deep dungeon walls. So that was why Snape resented me so much? Why did my father do a thing like that? I held my head in my hands for fear of making my hands bleed more on the stone walls.

And slowly, above my own shaking breath I heard a soft, creeping noise and suddenly I was embraced in warm arms. About to run from whoever it was I caught the scent of the person and...Draco. I sighed, happy for now, not wanting to worry about my moral hangups with him, I relaxed into his soft, comforting arms. He was so warm.

Gently he half-carried me to what I assume was the secret room (I was too tired to tell) and laid me down on soft, warm pillows. I felt his body slide in next to mine underneath the heavy blanket that now cocooned us. He kissed my forehead and I slid my tired, tear-stained face up to meet his lips and we kissed sweetly and softly for once, damning the concequences or what would happen in the morning. I needed his body near mine tonight.

He slowly stripped away the clothes from my tired body and I gasped as our chests touched - fragile hearts beating through thin skin, I could feel us. Lanuidly rolling us over he climbed on top of me.

"You shhh now, let me," he whispered softly, kissing my chest.

And then he slid himself down and onto my length. I groaned. Not used to being inside someone, my hands flew to his slim hips and grabbed him tightly. He huffed and, with what seemed like a lot of effort drew himself up and back down me. It took all of my strenght not to buck into him, he felt so good, so tight. I held my breath, not wanting it to end. But his movements where so soft, so slow and perfect that within no time at all I was fighting far too hard to hold onto myself.

So I let go. As I came Draco's body tensed up, a low animalistic groan ripping past his lips. He bent double over my pleasure-ridden body and came just after me, capturing my gaping mouth in a kiss. While we where still riding out our orgasms he rolled off me and held my sleepy head to his chest, combing his hand through my hair.

"Sleep now, okay, it's all going to be fine," he said, I could hear his voice reverberating through his chest.

I nodded. "I still don't believe you, y'know," my sleepy lips still unable to lie to him.

"I know, Harry," he said sadly, still holding me tight.

"Thank you, for tonight, for-"

"Shh," he interrupted me. "Whatever happened you're tired now, you need to sleep. We can talk in the morning - I promise I won't leave.

And by the time he'd finished his sentence my heavy lidded eyes had already fallen shut and I settled into one of the deepest sleeps I'd known in a long time.

_DracoPOV:_

Poor Harry was a mess. I'm so glad I found him when I did. I don't know what happened yet, but he looked so confused and so, so sad. His tear-staned face was crumpled and his knuckles will be bruised in the morning. I wish I knew what set him off like that - he was so vulnerable. Whoever made him like that had better fucking pay for it. Fuck, I wish I knew what had happened.

But for now at least he's still and sleeping. And hopefully his dreams will be kind to him tonight, because he needs the rest. And in the morning when he's feeling better we can start to resolve our arguments and maybe one day soon he'll be ready to care for me, because I'm going to need it.


	23. Memory

_HarryPOV:_

My eyelids slowly lifted and let my eyes focus and adjust to the light while my brain caught up with what had happened. Last night, deep sleep, bright morning. I yawned, surprised that I was still so tired after what must have been a stupidly long sleep, I lazily moved my arm behind myself, expecting to find Draco's sleeping form. But the bed was empty. I sat up quickly then, my mind racing to remember all the little details - like where I was, or what the time was.

"So you're awake then?"

"Draco," I smiled as he got up from the armchair across the room and walked towards me.

Looking around I now recognised the room as Our Hidden Room and relaxed a little. Draco picked up a tray of food I hadn't noticed from a bedside table and carried it over to the bed, propping it up on pillows he sat down next to me. I was embarrassed to see that he was fully dressed (well, waring pyjamas) where I was still nude. Draco looked so unfairly amazing as always, I was so self conscious sitting up in bed, all too aware that the duvet was only covering my lower half.

I took a couple of grapes off the tray, eating in silence I sat and thought and watched Draco eat. Eventually he looked up and caught my eye, and I caught myself smiling back at him. I quickly remembered myself and looked away, I remembered that I was still (rightfully) mad at him and that I had every right to glare at him but instead I was just sitting there smiling like an idiot. I should probably go.

Draco sighed heavily. "It's eleven thirty, encase you where wondering."

"Uh, thanks," I said, a little confused by his outburst. "Look - I should-"

"-Go?" Draco finished for me. "Stay a while?" he saw me hesitate. "Please, just as friends?"

I sighed, "Okay," I said, settling back down into the bed.

"Or, won't they miss you?" said Draco, referring to Ron and Hermione.

"No, well, yes. I'll tell them that I was looking for Deatheaters or something," it occurred to me that despite myself, I really wanted to stay too.

"So...what happened to you last night?" Draco asked boldly.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I should trust you with-"

"It's just you where talking in your sleep, something about Snape, and you needing to remember something?" he said, glancing at me from under his eyelashes.

I stared, open mouthed and unsure of how to react. There was silence for a few seconds.

"'Cause I could just go ask him now if you-"

"No!" I stopped him. "I'll tell you already."

Damn, that boy knows how to play his cards right, that was some quick manipulating. I briefly skimmed over what had been happening for the last few months, neglecting some of the details: like what had prompted the start of my Occulmency lessons and exactly why I was taking them. When I had finished Draco stayed silent for a few seconds whilst I shifted awkwardly under the heavy covers.

"...I'm sorry," he said eventually.

He lent forwards to hug, or maybe kiss me, but I stiffened my shoulders up. He sighed defeatedly and sat himself back down on the covers. We sat again in a silence filled this time with deep thoughts going unspoken as we tried not to catch each other's eyes.

"Hey, Harry!" Draco sounded excited.

"What?" I asked, definitely intrigued by the sudden change of tone.

"Well, tell me if this is mad, but I think I can, can get you to forgive me," Draco was breathless.

"Really?" I wished it was true, but highly doubted it. "How are you going to do that then?"

"By showing you what happened, Harry - Snape has a pensive." he almost-exclaimed, I looked at him with confusion. "A pensive is a thing that means you can view other peoples memories, or store your own."

I grinned as it dawned on me what his plan was. If I could see that he was as innocent as he claimed to be then I had no reason not to just give into my own will and just forgive him already.

"It's almost midday now, he should still be off teaching, I can get in easily," Draco jumped up. "Come on!"

He was so childishly excited, it was ridiculess, and so cute to see him so unreserved. I quickly got dressed but ignored his offered hand, I wanted to still keep some distance between us - just encase he was lying, just incase he was tricking me. I needed to be sure of him.

We snuck down the empty corridors together, Draco whispering an inaudible password to Snape's large, ominous-looking oak doors that opened to the Professor's study. I averted my eyes from the empty bit of cold stone floor that I remembered all too well and couldn't bare to look at. Instead I focused on what Draco was unveiling; a bowl made from the same stone as the walls and floor, and as the heavy velvet cover slid off an eerie silver-blue light shone from it. I peered at it from over Draco's protective shoulder; inside there where dark-silver pieces of moving pictures, floating in no particular pattern. And the 'pensive' was completely silent and looked bottomless.

"How does it work?" I whispered, my eyes still staring into the entrancing bowl.

"I'll use my wand to extract a copy of the memory from my mind and put it in the bowl. Once it's in there you just need to put your face into the bowl and it will sort of, drag you into the memory so you can watch it."

"Oh," magic never ceases to amaze me. "Is it safe?"

"Yes, and I'll pull you out when you're ready, don't worry. Ready?"

I nodded silently, still transfixed by the swirling shapes before me.

"Okay," said Draco and I looked up to catch the last wisps of gray float from his wand into the bowl. "Go."

I took a deep breath and grabbed onto his robes for some sort of support before closing my eyes and taking the plunge.

My eyes shot open as an unreal wooshing sound filled my ears and beside me the gray shapes that had fascinated me from the surface where solidifying and forming shapes, shapes of objects and people, objects and people I recognised and eventually formed Umbridge's office. It was strange to watch everything form in front of me whilst I stayed an arbitrary presence, floating and invisible behind the Professor and her desk.

A knock sounded at the door. "Come in," she called in that same-old simpering voice of hers. A very neat and well-dressed Draco entered the room, striding in with authority and a look of subtle disdain like his father, he waited politly to be invited to sit.

"Cup of tea?" she asked.

"No, thank you," Draco said and her startled hand stilled next to an already-prepared cup of steaming tea.

"Are you sure, I've already prepared some for you?" she prompted, getting slightly flustered.

Draco smiled wickedly, like he knew every one of her little tricks. "Please, the others will probably be along in a minute."

I stared at the little scene playing out before me in confusion. What game was Draco playing here? Whatever it was, he seemed to be winning, and it seemed to be driving Umbridge mad. I didn't have much time to think about it because a moment after Draco had spoken, like clockwork another knock sounded on the door and Umbridge called them in.

A troupe of Slytherins entered - Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode, Zambini and a few others filed into the room. Umbridge stood and offered them all tea (which they all excepted, and she seemed pleased) and let them stand around the room, awkwardly sipping steaming, too-sweet tea out of delicate pink china cups and saucers. Draco made no move to greet his friends or stand with them. And they where all drinking that tea that Draco had so tactfully declined. I was still confused.

Umbridge sat back in her large padded chair whilst the new arrivals grouped in front of the desk but behind Draco's seat.

"Now, you all know why I asked you here today," she smiled at them all. "I'm sure your parents had their own reasons for pushing you to take this 'extra-credit assignment'," at this she looked at each student, individually staring them down. "Now I want to find out if any of you have completed my assignment."

Again, she looked to each individual student with a questioning glare, but each student sadly shook their head and looked at the ground.

"Are you telling me that _none_ of you could find out what Potter and Dumbledore are planning!" she shouted, her voice shrill.

She barked the question at each student individually but each time she got 'no' and then a rushed apology as an answer. I held my breath as she asked Draco, but his answer was still 'no'. _Then how did she find out?_

Umbridge started shouting again, telling them all how useless and worthless they where, her feet where stomping and her face was turning red, like Uncle Vernon when he was in a rage. She looked so angry, like she might start throwing things. Instead she turned her wild eyes to Draco's calm, seated form and I backed further into the corner at the look she gave him, but he just stayed calm, an eyebrow raised slightly in surprise.

"You," her voice was a little horse from screetching. "Tell me the truth."

"I'm very sorry, Professor," Draco said innocently. "But I told you everything I know. Don't you believe me?"

I looked at him in surprise. Perhaps he'd tricked me somehow? This can't be how it happened. _How did she find out?_ The question was racing through my mind.

"No, I don't believe you," from her skirt pocket she pulled a small vile and waved it in front of his face. "Do you know what this is?"

"Veritiserum?" he guessed, his voice almost bored.

"Correct, and everyone in this room has had some but you. So," her voice switched to threatening. "Are you going to tell me the truth?"

"Professor Umbridge," Draco stood up but didn't loose his decorum. "There is a limit to what you can do to students and forcibly giving them veritiserum, or even spiking their drinks with it is, I'm afraid, illegal. I'm afraid I've told you everything I know and it seems that nothing new will come of this meeting, so I will take my leave, good day."

"Stop him!" Umbridge screamed and the Sltheryns formed a semi circle around him, blocking him from the door and the far reaches of the walls. Draco looked perplexed for a moment and my heart beat faster.

"Sit down, Mr Malfoy," Umbridge instructed, her voice far too sweet to be safe.

"I'd rather not," Draco said, not backing down a step.

Umbridge wordlessly summoned Crabbe and Goyle from the semi-circle and they, just as wordlessly, grabbed hold of Draco. Their beefy fists with bruising grips on his arms, shoulders and hips pushed him down and held him to the chair. I held my hands over my shocked mouth, my eyes brimming with tears, unable to stop what was happening in front of me, unable to help Draco.

"I really did hope it wouldn't have to come to this," Umbridge said in a mock-sad voice.

It was only then that Draco lost his control, his legs kicking and arms straining against his captors.

"Get off me!" he shouted. "Get the fuck off me!" His limbs flailing and body twisting, groaning a little in pain as the grips holding him there caught on his skin and tightened against his struggles.

"Here," Umbridge had poured a little of the Veritiserum onto a decorative teaspoon to give to Draco. "If you really have told me everything you know, then you have nothing to hide."

Draco didn't dare open his mouth to reply so instead he twisted his head violently to the side, knocking the spoon from Umbridge's hand. He was breathing heavily through his nose keeping his lips pressed tightly together.

"Don't think stalling will get you out of this," Umbridge squeaked, poorly disguising her outrage. "Does your father know you're protecting Potter? I don't think he'll be very pleased, do you?" Her voice was a facade of sweetness as her hand quickly tangled in Draco's hair and roughly pulled his head back.

Draco barely contained his cry of pain but his efforts to escape doubled, forcing the brutish Crabbe and Goyle to have to put in a lot of effort into keeping him pinned down. By now my tears where flowing freely, streaming down my cheeks silently as my hands held my mouth shut, scared of the noises I would make if I could. Draco was straining his neck, trying to get away from Umbridge's hold on his hair - I wanted so much to be able to hold his hand, lie like lovers should and tell him everything was okay.

Umbridge held the open bottle of Veritiserum at the ready as she grabbed hold of Draco's nose, closing the airway. He held on for almost a full twenty seconds, his eyes wide and wild, his face pink and his lips paling and skin cooling. Eventually he let out a gasp and Umbridge ruthlessly poured the truth serum messily down his throat, holding his nose until he had to swallow. Only then did she let go and allow his captors to loosen their deathgrips a little. All his decorum was lost - with his clothes and hair messy from the struggle, his face slowly loosing the sallow-choking colour and returning to normal, his mouth and neck still dunning with the Veritiserum. I felt terrible.

"Now, that wasn't so bad," smiled Umbridge, setting the empty bottle delicately on the desk and returning to her chair. "Are you ready to tell me what you know?"

Draco glared at her with a venom in his eyes that, with his already wild appearance, even stilled me a little. "Harry has set up an organisation called 'Dumbledore's Army' which is designed to teach students defense against the dark arts. They meet in the room of requirement, the dates aren't regular." Draco hung his head.

"Good, Umbridge smiled," she looked up at the other students gathered there. "You useless children can go now," she looked back to Draco with a curious look in her eyes as the others filed dejectedly out of the room. "Crabbe, Goyle, stay holding him."

Draco looked up at this. "Why can't I go already? I told you everything you needed to know," it was as close to begging as he would let himself get.

"How did you find this information out?" she asked bluntly.

Draco looked like he was about to sob, he stared blankly at the wall behind Umbridge and opened his mouth to speak...then all the sound became muffled. I looked around in confusion, wondering what had happened to the memory, it couldn't be time to eave yet? Then I realised; this was Draco's memory, and he had had Veritiserum, so of course he can't remember properly what happened (I knew that all too well), this is his best version of what happened.

The semi-silent interrogation continued for another few minutes until eventually I saw Umbridge order Draco's release. His body slumped forwards in the chair for a moment, but then he remembered himself and, with a clear effort, pulled himself up and limped towards the door. My body effortlessly followed him down the corridor and into the nearest bathroom he found.

There he dragged his tired self into a stall and slumped down onto the floor next to the toilet, he hung his head over the rim and vomited - purging all the terrible liquid from his body. Only then did I dare to try and hold him, but my hands passed straight through him and my heart felt like it was ripping. He threw up until there was nothing left in him and then sorely felt over his body for bruises and damage. From the looks of it he found lots of bruising, only some of it major, a little blood on his scalp from where Umbridge had pulled his head back and a slight sprain in his left ankle. Limping over to the sink he splashed water on his face he sighed heavily, and only then let hot, angry tears fall.

And the world swirled away and Snape's office came back into focus...Draco's strong and very real hands caught me as I stumbled back and onto the floor, he knelt beside me, his face a picture of concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, holding my face in his hands.

"Oh, Draco," I said with a sob, pulling myself up to meet him and pulling him into a tight bear hug. "I'm so, so sorry."

"No, Harry, you don't have to apologise for anything, I should never have tricked you in the first place, should never have-"

"Shhh," I told him softly. "Please, let's talk somewhere else."

We hurried arm in arm out of Snape's Office and back into our room where we jumped happily down onto a comfortable sofa and finally, after all this time, I felt truly at ease with him. Sitting in each others arms we talked and kissed and made up for all our lost time until the evening wore down to a quiet sunset and, exhausted and careless of the world, we fell into soft sleep.

**A/N: :D ...see he is sort of very lovely :D xxx**


	24. What Do You See?

**A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews on the last chapter, it's really nice for me to see people still enjoying this fic even as it starts to come to a close :)**

**Vxxx**

_3edPOV:_

"Y'know, I really missed being with you like this," Harry smiled as the sleeping couple slowly awoke the next morning.

"Mmm," agreed Draco, his brain was still too fuzzy with sleep to form a proper answer as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and blinked at the bright room. He stared at the bright light for a few seconds and then seemed to give up and, with an exhausted groan, flopped back down to the bed.

"D'awww," Harry mock-pouted, poorly concieling a giggle. "Do you need a wakeup call?" he asked, climbing no top of Draco's reclined body.

That caught his interest. Propping himself up on his elbows he said, "That looks like it's going to be the best kind of wakeup."

Harry lent forwards and met Draco's lips, they kissed for a brief moment before Harry grinned mischeiveously and, with a little trouble, managed to get Draco's boxers down without moving himself too much. Harry was already naked, it seemed it had become his habit to sleep naked after sex. Still a little clumsy with sleep he manovered himself down the bed. Smiling softly to himself he slowly licked Draco's length, delighting in the shudder of pleasure that ran through the pale body below him. Slowly taking Draco in his mouth, Harry worked his way down his length - above him, Draco's sleepy mouth was letting soft moans and barely-audiable sighs slide from him with ease.

Once he was as deep as he felt he could go Harry begun to bob his head, stopping occaisionally to tease Draco; his tongue eagerly lapping at the head, easing along the underside. Draco's hards suddenly fisted in Harry's soft hair as he felt himself grow close. His eyes fluttering closed Draco begun to thrust softly, urging Harry on and rushing towards his release. Letting his teeth gently graze on the sensitive skin Harry let Draco, with his precious soft sighs and grasping hands, have his release. He stayed still as Draco came, swallowing every drop.

As their breathing stilled Harry slid back up the bed to see the now-fully-awake Draco, flushed and a little sweaty but nevertheless grinning like an idiot. They kissed softly, Draco tasting himself over Harry's usual sweet taste. And they lay in each other's arms, Harry's hand drawing soft circles on Draco's steadily rising and falling chest, they stared up at the high ceiling just letting the minutes slip by.

"I feel so complete right now," Harry said softly.

Draco's heart fluttered, but it felt like a knife was twisting in his gut. "Listen Harry," he said slowly, his hand stroking through Harry's dark hair. "I love you but you have to know that we're not out of the woods yet."

"What do you mean?" Harry's voice was bordering on a snap.

"I mean that I'm not in the best position to protect you - to be everything you want me to be, or be everything that I want to be," Draco sighed, trying to get the words to sound right. "I'm Lucius Malfoy's son, and as his son, you understand that it would be rather...disasterous if anyone found out about us. Becuase, becuase - Harry, at any moment I may be called away to do dirt work for the Deatheaters-"

"Draco, what are you trying to say?" Harry said, looking up at him with concern in his eyes.

"I'm trying to say that I want to be with you, properly, but we can't for now - I want to keep seeing you a lot, but I don't want you to trust me with every - with _any_ details about what you're planning against the Dark Lord, because something could happen to me and I wouldn't want to hurt you-" Draco sould see he was going to interrupt, "-Shh, please, just promise me?"

Harry considered for a moment, looking deep into Draco's stormy eyes. "Alright," he said at last.

Draco sighed in releaf. He hadn't submitted a report on Harry or any of his activities to Voldemort in a long time now, and it wouldn't be too long now until the Dark Lord became unpatient and he would have to say something - he would just rather it would be trivial shit rather than plans that would truly endanger Harry. And that was the way it had to be for now.

"Anyway, I've got to get back, people will be worrying about me by now," Harry said, sitting up on the side of the bed and defly pulling his crumpled boxers and jeans on.

"Oh, hey, they can wait can't they?" _was it something I said?_ Draco thought. _Why was Harry suddenly in such a hurry_?

"Relax, you didn't do anything," Harry reassured him, as if reading his mind. "I've been gone for over a day now - which I can make up some excuse for, but it's not fair to make them worry," he explained, hurridly buttoning up his shirt.

Draco didn't move and pouted stubbornly.

Harry smiled, now fully dressed, he leaned across the bed and kissed Draco's cheek. "See you here tonight, okay? Love you." And with that Harry swept out of the room leaving a smiling Draco in the bed.

And as the softly smiling lovers parted many miles away, hidden deep within a labyrinth of chambers and tunnels two cold people part ways - one bowing as he left, and the other who remained upon a raised platform of grey stone had his own unnaturally soft smile playing across his thin lips. As Lucius strode down the winding corridors he let his mind wonder back to the last few weeks (he new the path back home by heart anyway). The last few weeks of hurried meetings and hushed whispers, the rush of preparation for the Dark Lord's true rising. He would finally become known to the masses. And, as the ministry crumbled and He took His rightful place, riches would come in abundance to the greedy Malfoy. And that day was so nearly upon them. So close he could smell the rich silver and gold.

_HarryPOV:_

I wondered back to the common room in some sort of hazey shade of bliss. Everything seemed so far away, and so bright, and I was above it. All the corridors, lights, faces, smells; they where still the same, I didn't have to think about where I was going as I ascented the familiar stairway towards the Gryffindoor tower, just now everything seemed to have a different glaze to it. Everyone looked miserable in comparison to me. I knew my lips where smiling without me even having to feel it. I was happy - and I know that it was foolish, should've paid more attention to whatever it was that Draco was trying to tell me. But what can I say? I just wanted the freedom that this _bliss_ gave me.

The Fat Lady portrait swung open and she said something welcoming that I didn't quite catch - my mind to preoccupied with everything that had happened. I glance around the Common Room, I spotted the back of Ron and Hermione's heads, they where sitting on opposite ends of a large sofa in front of the fire and seemed to be chatting (or bickering) about something. I crept up behind them and lept into the center of the sofa.

"Boo!" I laughed as I landed, my feet in Ron's lap and my back hitting awkwardly against Hermione's shoulder. "Ow..." I murmured to myself, adjusting my position until I was more comfortable.

"Hey, where the bloody hell where you?" Ron asked.

I shrugged noncholantly, still smiling. "I'm sorry, I thought I'd found something...y'know, about Deatheaters."

"We were worried sick!" Hermione said breathlessly.

"Look, I really am sorry," I said, letting my head flop back so I could look at her whilst I spoke. "If I'd have known I would take this long, I would've told you something. I just didn't notice how much time had passed 'cause I was down in the dungeons. I'm very sorry." I pouted a little as I finished talking.

Hermione looked doubtful. "Really, you didn't notice almost two days go past?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"We where _this_ close to rounding up a massive Order search party!" Roan said, his eyes wide. "Only Hermione insisted that Dumbledore would know already if something had happened to you inside Hogwarts..."

I stayed silent, I honestly did feel guilty now for staying away so long.

"Just promise us you won't do that again Harry?" Hermione sighed.

I nodded in earnest, my face breaking back into a smile. "Cross my heart."

My concerned friends finally relax. We stayed in amiable silence for a long while - Hermione racing through her book; Ron getting slowly more and more frustrated with some essay he was writing; and I was just getting lost in the slow crackling and licking of the flames in the fireplace as the common room slowly emptied as students headed to bed to get enough sleep for what promised to be a gruelling Monday. Eventually I glanced at the clock mounted on the chimey breast. It was getting close to ten.

"Right," I said, my voice cracking with disuse. I stood up and streached my arms above my head, yawning dramatically. "Bed time for me."

"You're probably right," Hermione said, glancing at the clock and shutting her book. "Goodnight."

She leant over the sofa, gently kissing Ron's embarrassingly pink cheek before bouncing up the stairs towards the girl's dorm. It took a moment for Ron to regain his composture before he hurredly and messily gathered up his things. I just stood, waiting, biting back my laughter.

"Aw, what's up, Harry?" Ron smiled with deviance in his eyes that could only be matched by Fred and George. "Jealous of my girlfriend?"

"If she can get her hands on a piece of arse like yours, you bet I am!" I laughed, racing up the stairs.

"Hey! Bastard, that's not what I meant!" Ron called up.

"Whatever you say, honey!" I called back down before letting the door to the dorm swing shut behind me.

Climbing into bed I fell asleep almost instantly.

_And in my dreams all the images seemed filmy, and they jostled for position - scene after oddly-familiar scene crashed together, my mind racing to keep up with them all. And they all felt so real: I could feel the cold of the stoney rooms, smell every emotion of the dream-people there, and I viewed the scenes themselves in some sort of hypervision. Why is it so cold? Only they weren't dream-people, my tired brain slowly realised, they where Deatheaters, and that quietly menacing voice (always just on the edge of my periforals)... And there! Sirius! But my dream-heart didn't leap, my dream-mouth didn't smile or say anything at all; all my dream-body did was circle slowly although I could _feel_ Sirius' adrenilin and sweat, as if his ragged breaths weren't enough of a sign that he was afraid! He stood tall, but his darting eyes and slight quiver in his voice when he answered The Lord: _I need that prophesy._ The shaking man replied "You'll have to kill me." My dream-stomach flipped sickly at the promise of bloodshed, it always entertained The Lord and I._

I shook my head, feeling my pillow slip from benieth my head, this dream wasn't normal...

_The Lord had a hint of laughter to his voice now:_ I will, but you will fetch it for me first. _The man fell to the floor in what looked to be agony, indignant sounds of pain floated from his lips, gasping for breath._ Crucio._ He was close to screaming now I could tell. The image switched: a ball, no - orb, 97-128. _97-128._ Shelves, endless shelves of these misty orbs and Sirius was there, somewhere in the silence of the cold, empty room. The man was screaming again, I hoped that The Lord would just hurry up and finish with him. Who was that? Fudge? Same dark stone walls (it's so cold in here), long corridor, big black door at the end. Big black door. Where was Sirius?_ Sirius.

"HARRY!" Ron's voice tore through my brain and the world swum back to me.

Common room. How did I get here? The gold and red was too garish, I needed somewhere dark to gather my thoughts. Why am I by the fire?... It was cold. I'm sweating like crazy though. I realised that kneeling was hurting, so I sat back heavily, someone catching me in their arms. I could talk to Sirius through the fireplace.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice this time.

I turned my head sleepily towards the source of the noise. But, come to think of it, there was noise from all around. It seemed half of Gryffindor was there. It was too noisy, and too bright. My brain recognises Hermione's familiar features and she snaps into focus. I shook my head agian, trying to clear the fog. She smiled sympathetically.

"Okay!" she put on her authoritive voice and stood up. The world swayed for a moment. "Everyone! He's awake now, and he'll do a lot better without all of you crowding him!"

Grumbles resonated throughout the room.

"Oh, shut up!" Ron said gruffly. "If there's any gossip - it'll be around the school by breakfast and you know it. Now bugger off!"

The disgruntled pupils slowly made their way up their respective stairways to their respective dorms and slowly most of the light left the room and it fell close to silent. I relaxed - finally I was able to start trying to peice together what had happened. I glanced around the room - from what I could see only Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville remained. I smiled exhaustedly at them all, inidcating that I was alright.

"What happened?" Neville asked softly from where he lent against a sofa.

"Dream," I rasped, my eyes not leaving the floor.

"Like the one you saw Mr Weasley in, right?" Hermione guessed.

I nodded. And it clicked. "Sirius is in trouble."

"What? How?" Ron asked.

"I...I don't know exactly. He was with Voldemort in," I hesitated while I struggled to recall what I'd seen. "In the ministry, what was the department called? Voldemort was looking for a prophesy..." I looked to Hermione for help.

"Mysteries, I presume. The department of mysteries."

"Yes!" I smiled in releaf. "And Voldemort was hurting him, hurting Sirius. We need to go save him!" I stumbled unsteadily to my feet.

"Hold on, Harry," Hermione intoned, forever the voice of reason. "Maybe _he_ knows that your minds are linked somehow, maybe it's a trick?"

"I can't just sit here with the possibility that Sirius is being tortured as we speak!"

"No, no of course not. We need to contact The Order somehow."

"How? Umbridge has all the communication watched, you know that," I protested. "Let's just go! We can come up with a plan on the way."

"She wouldn't be watching her fireplace," Ginny siad quietly.

Hermione beamed at her. "Yes! Harry, it's perfect. Half of us make a distraction, the other half can sneak in there and send a message," I was going to protest, but she cut me short. "No one's going anywhere without at least _trying_ the sensible option."

"Fine," I snapped. "We're wasting time. Let's just go."

Everyone jumped to their feet after me, I was in no mood to do any more bickering.

**A/N: So sorry about long update gap. I got distracted by True Blood and arguing about colleges with my parents D: xxx**


	25. In View

_HermionePOV:_

I really wasn't sure if this was a good idea. Umbridge was watching all correspondence inside the school like a hawk, surely our going to her office to send out a signal was too obvious. Or maybe that was the genius of the plan. I don't know, I just really wasn't sure about any of this. Harry was rash at the best of times, but in situations like this I suppose it was almost dangerous. But perhaps we were doing the right thing. But this is He Who Must Not Be Named that we're playing with.

I bit my lip and stayed silent.

The corridors, usually so easy to navigate, seemed to take ages to walk, and I could've sworn there were more twists and turns than usual. Then again, my buzzing mind was very distracted. By the time our little entourage had reached Umbridge's door I had come to the conclusion that I should go along with whatever plan Harry was going with but stay vigilant. After all, he hasn't let us down yet, but it is sink or swim at this point.

Her office was ugly. Truly. I could here my sounds of disgust echoed by the others around me, the encumbering pink was so garish, and the little moving pictures of cats, and the lace doilies on every available surface - I was honestly left speechless. But urgency overtook our nausae and Harry quickly set about the fireplace, trying to send his message to The Order. I, however, stayed near the door, unable to ignore the niggling doubts I harbored.

The fireplace flared into life with a rush of blue light that settled into the usual crackling orange held my gaze for a few moments. And a moment too long. The door slammed open, knocking me back a few feet as I struggled not to fall. Umbridge strode proudly into the room - flanked by Crabbe, Goyle and Nott - and smiled toothily at us. I'm sure my venomous glare of a reply was matched by those around me.

I backed up a couple more paces, taking the opportunity to glance at my friends: Neville's eyes were fixed unwaveringly on her, I could almost see their anger bubbling just below the surface of their eyes; Ron and Ginny looked more defensive, like they were ready to take anything she could throw at them; and Harry looked completely colourless, blanched, like all the will had left his eyes. I looked away, startled. What could've brought this out in him?

All at once Umbridge's rage seemed to boil to the surface and, with a shrill, indignant shout of "Get them!" she pulled out her wand and for a moment, all was smoke and movement and scuffling.

When the haze cleared I saw that we were all surrounded by her 'henchmen', cordoned off into the far corner, beside the fireplace and just behind the desk. Doing a quick headcount of our party I noticed Harry was missing. Straining my neck, I peered over the burly shoulders of whoever (I didn't care to look) stood in front of me, I spotted him. He was held by thick ropes around his arms to the hard wooden chair before the desk; Umbridge stood before him with her hands fisted on her hips, _she must be proud of herself_ I thought though I couldn't see her face; Harry (who was facing us) looked almost ill; his hands twisted weakly against the strong ties; and his eyes were flitting all over the room, whether for rescue or support I could not tell. His wand, I saw, was placed carelessly on the desk beside him.

My eyes turned to Ron, who's expression matched mine, our hands clasped. We were both too afraid to break the immeasurable silence before us.

"Accio wands!" Umbridge called, turning around to catch them and throw them on the desk next to Harry's.

"Hey!" Ron cried boldly. "You can't do this!"

"Oh, but I can," she smiled toothily back at us.

Harry jumped in his bonds, some of his fire returning. "Leave them alone!" he shouted.

"I'll leave all of you alone, but first I want us to have a little chat. Can we do that, poppet?" she simpered.

Harry spat on the floor. Umbridge's face distorted with rage and she curtly slapped him, I felt us all jump a little at the sound of the impact, Ginny's delicate hand gripped tightly onto my shoulder. Ron looked outraged. Harry's face had sickened again, but his eyes stayed alight and fighting. _Good for you, Harry_.

"You were going to contact Dumbledore, weren't you?" she asked.

"No."

"Liar," she hissed. "...it seems you didn't learn your lesson."

Harry's eyes started darting again - I looked on in confusion, what was she talking about? There was a prelude to this that I hadn't witnessed, and judging from the faces surrounding me, no one else had ether. What happened to you Harry?

"Where is she?" she was calm again when she answered.

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you. Who else would you be trying so desperately to contact?"

Harry looked away, he didn't have an answer.

There was a sharp knock at the door. Maybe there was some hope after all. Umbridge called for the visitor to enter, not giving a second thought to what would happen to her if she were caught doing...this.

"Ah, Severus," she greeted him kindly.

My hopeful heart sank. Professor Snape regarded the room with an air of suspicion and distaste, though that was nothing unusual, he seemed to decide that the situation required none of his efforts to rectify. _Bastard_.

"Headmistress?" he inquired slowly.

"Yes, Severus," she was brusque and breathless. "The time has come for this boy to give me answers, whether he wants to, or not. Have you brought the veritiserum?"

I breathed in loudly through my teeth, it was against the rules to use veritiserum on a student. I was ignored. Harry looked terrible, his arms were red and looked sore from twisting in the ropes and he looked close to tears.

"I'm afraid you've used up the whole stock of it interrogating students," Snape said tonelessly. "The last of it, I believe, on Mr Draco Malfoy."

I furrowed my brow, this was getting more confusing by the minute, why would anyone like Umbridge need to interrogate anyone like Malfoy? Ron nudged me, his face echoing the same questions I was asking myself. I just shrugged and shook my head, turning my concerned eyes back to poor Harry.

"Unless you wish to poison him, I'm afraid I can be of no further assistance," Snape finished.

Umbridge was positively shaking with annoyance as Snape turned on his heel. Then Harry spoke:

"He's got Padfoot," Harry called, Snape froze in the doorway, turning back around with incredulous eyes on Harry. "He's got Padfoot, at the place where it's hidden."

_Oh, Harry, you clever boy_ I smiled. He smiled weakly, he had the message out.

"Got Padfoot? What is Padfoot? Where what's hidden? What is he talking about, Severus?"

Snape arched an eyebrow. "I have no idea," he said haughtily, turning again finally leaving us.

Harry's eyes sunk back to the floor, he looked like he regretted hoping, and so did I.

She rounded on Harry: "So! If it wasn't Dumbledore you were contacting who was it?" there was silence after she finished, so she took a decisive deep breath and continued shouting. "Who could possibly be _that_ important, hm? More like-minded criminals I bet! Come on, spit it out!"

I looked on in shock, completely at a loss of what to do. She was pacing aperiodically in front of Harry, tapping her wand between her hands in a hint of a threat, and ranting about supposed all manner of criminal activities and plotting a grand overthrowing of the Ministry. Her shrill words morphed into a constant ringing in my ears. Harry kept his eyes downcast and his mouth shut, he looked scared (shaking, actually) but he seemed in control of himself. _If she lays a finger on him again, then she'll pay _I concluded savagely. For now though, it seemed I didn't truly know what was happening well enough to act right, so I resigned myself to helplessly watching the pig circus of an interrogation play out before me.

"So," Umbridge concluded breathlessly. "You want to protect Dumbledore that much, do you?"

Harry didn't even move in response and it was slowly driving Umbridge mad with rage. Her cheeks were rapidly turning an ugly fuchsia to match her dress.

"Fine," she said with an incriminating air of finality. "Then you leave me no choice. It's for the good of the Ministry."

She was nodding gently to herself as she drew her no longer subtle wand from where she held it at her side and aimed it at Harry, the tip flitting about to point at different parts of his shuddering body. Her deliberation was clear. And I couldn't stand it anymore.

"No!" I shouted, drawing all the attention in the room. "Stop!" My voice was embarrassingly hoarse.

"So, you know what Dumbledore is up to then, do you Granger?" her wand was now pointed at me.

"I-"

"No," Harry said, interrupting me with visible effort. Then her continued in a pseudo-secretive tone. "_Hermione_, remember we promised."

That got Umbridge worked up again. She turned on her clicky little heels to face Harry once more. "Perhaps, Crucio will loosen your tongue, Mr Potter?"

I wasn't the only one to gasp at that. I felt the inhalation from all around me, we had barely a moment to harness our disbelief before a thin stream of colour shot from the glowing tip and hit Harry square in the chest. There was silence for the first few immeasurable moments, broken only by Harry's sporadic and labored breathing through his gritted teeth. Then, so suddenly, his back arched and twisted agonisingly off the chair drawing from him a gurgled scream of pain.

"STOP IT!" I yelled, breaking blindly through our shocked guard and knocking the filthy wand from that woman's disgusting hand.

Harry looked exhausted, his forehead slick with sweat and gaze hazy. I could feel my tears on my cheeks before I was even aware that I was crying.

"Stop it!" I repeated, staring down her dark beady eyes. "I'll tell you.

Umbridge's stance straightened and she looked at me with interest. "Show me what? Where?"

"Dumbledore's secret weapon," I 'admitted', thinking on the spot. "It's in, uh...the Forbidden Forrest."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" her chest swelled with pride. "Take me there now."

"Fine," I said rashly. "But I want Harry to come with us, I, um, can't remember the way on my own."

There was a pause that seemed to stretch on forever and I fought to keep my expression under control whilst hoping beyond hope that my expression hadn't given me away. Umbridge gave me a calculating look as she went to retrieve her wand.

"Very well, Miss Granger," she said eventually, flicking her wand and releasing Harry from his bonds. I rushed forwards instantly to help him to his feet as Umbridge turned to her hastily assembled guard. "You, make sure this lot don't escape whilst I'm gone."

And with that she turned on her heel and beckoned for Harry and I to follow. I tried at first to lead Harry, but he seemed so much better now he was up and able to move. He still seemed exhausted and drained - but I guess he'd barely slept, and after going through an ordeal like the one I'd just witnessed, I figured I'd be a little shook up too. I shot Ron one last worried look before the door closed after us.

I led us deep into the Forbidden Forest, keeping Harry close to me so it looked like _we_ were leading and not just me. Occasionally I stopped to deliberate with Harry: "Was it left or right here...no, fairly sure we go straight on..." et cetera and tried to answer Umbridge's mindless questions along the way, though often my answer was simply that it would all make sense when she saw the Weapon. And Harry, bless him, managed to play along, though sometimes he stuttered and looked to me for help he was more helpful than I could've expected...and certainly fantastic at pretending he knew just what I was doing.

"How much further is it!" Umbridge demanded from a few meters behind us.

I turned to see her struggling comically through a thistle bush only to stumble clumsily on a small muddy slope in her once neat pink heels.

"Oh, not long to go now," I bluffed. "You understand that Dumbledore had to make sure it was well hidden, so that none of the students could accdentally find it."

We only had to walk a little further before an arrow sailed over us, sticking with a thick thud into the trunk of a nearby tree. Umbridge jumped and gasped dramatically, smiling I turned around to face her once again. Finally, something had noticed we were here. The plants upon the banks surrounding the path we walked rustled briefly and the sound of hooves on stone briefly echoed around us, seamlessly revealing about fifty centaurs, all with their bows raised and pointed at us. I felt a little flicker of fear shoot through me, but then recalled who Harry and I were with, and how much the centaurs would despise her over us. With another undignified squeal Umbridge grabbed Harry and held her wand to his head shakily, like some weird imitation of a muggle shoot out movie.

Harry tried to pull himself free, but she was stronger than she looked. He looked to me for help, but I could do no more than hold my hands up defenselessly.

"Don't come any closer!" she said, loud enough for the whole gathering to hear, she cast a snide glare at me. "If you half-breeds know what's good for you, and these children, you will retreat now!"

"What did you call us!" shouted a chestnut brown centaur, whom I recognised as Magorian, stepped forwards from the ranks.

Umbridge's voice didn't even waver as she ploughed on: "Yes, I'm sure it would reflect terribly on half-breeds like you if the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and High Inquisitor and Headmistress of Hogwarts witnessed the precious Harry Potter become terribly injured by your hands," the threat was clear in her voice, I could feel the ranks riling. "Especially, as you would all be considered responsible for your actions, as creatures of near-human intelligence -"

"Near human intelligence?" fumed a wild-looking Bane, who stepped forwards angrily. "We consider that a great insult, human. Thankfully our intelligence far outstrips your own."

I bit my lip nervously as the centaurs cheered and stomped their hooves. Harry tried again to wrench himself free of the blithering mad woman we stood with. Magorian seemed to eventually grow tired of Umbridge's interrupted attempts to restart her speech.

"What are you doing in our forest?" he asked.

"_Your_ forest?" Umbridge seemed intent on digging her own grave. "Need I remind you that you are only on this land because the Ministry permits your use of-"

She was interrupted by an arrow flying inches from her head, she shrieked, releasing Harry who ran instantly towards me - grabbing my arm he pulled me under the high bank of earth that the centaurs stood proudly upon. Umbridge glared at us, but seemed to make the sensible decision not to try and retrieve us.

"We'll be safest here," Harry whispered, holding us huddled together.

I squeezed his arm in appreciation and nodded, my throat feeling to dry to even make a noise.

As the centaurs stamped and bellowed their approval another arrow flew towards Umbridge, this time catching on her puffy brown hair. There was a ripping sound accompanied by a high-pitched squeal from her, as the arrow settled to the ground I spied a large lump of hair hooked below the head of it. Even I had to wince. The centaurs' angry shouts broke to ruckus laughter at the flailing woman in the middle of the circle.

"Whose forest is it now, human?" Magorian bellowed over the noise.

"Filthy half breeds!" Umbridge shouted, her hands clasping at her head. "Beasts! Uncontrolled animals!"

Almost beside myself, I couldn't help but smile. She looked ridiculous, stood screeching insults at the threatening circle closing slowly in on her. That _bitch_.

Magorian rose up onto his hind legs and, with a wild cry, the centaurs surged suddenly forwards and from where we were crouched I could barely see more than a blur of the creatures, broken occasionally by a flash of muddied pink. And above the centaurs' battle cries rose the shrill, piercing screech of Umbridge. When the rabble cleared a little I could catch a glimpse of her - her usually coiffed hair hung in bedraggled strands around her bruised face, and her dress was not in much better shape (and I was not surprised to see dots of crimson clash with the fuchsia she sported). Her eyes didn't seem to focus on anything for a long while after most of the centaurs had cleared. Then she saw us.

"Help," she said gormlessly.

I felt Harry's hand tighten on my shoulder, his face was hard as stone when he slowly but firmly looked Umbridge in her scared eyes and shook his head. Her face fell and she was silent as she was dragged away, deeper into the forest by the cheering and jeering centaurs. Harry watched her disappear unblinkingly.

"_Bitch,"_ he muttered, before standing up and brushing his clothes down.

"Yes," I said, ignoring his offered hand and helping myself up. "But she didn't deserve that."

"Maybe," he shrugged. "But you don't know all that she's done."

"Tell me?"

"Not now. Later, maybe, okay? Right now we need to find the others and get out of here."

I glanced around quickly, for any stray centaurs who could have been still rallied from their earlier fight, and were wondering in search of new blood. The coast seemed clear so I took off after Harry who was marching ahead down or previously trodden path.

_HarryPOV:_

I mentally shook myself. I had to stay calm for now; but _shit_ that woman was terrifying. Back in the office - I'm not sure what I thought was going to happen to me, but I didn't expect anything like that. She surely must be insane. To use crucio on a kid (on me) like that, in front of all those witnesses. But, then again, if she uses things like that torturous quill in detentions, maybe crucio isn't that much of a leap for her.

Though I suppose two good things came out of the whole ordeal: first, we finally got shot of Umbridge; and second - I know Draco was telling the truth. For sure now. Snape said it himself, Draco's the reason there's no more veritiserum. I could've danced with happiness. No more doubts, no more reservations, Draco hadn't willingly told Umbridge a damn thing. And being tied down to that chair is scary, after experiencing it myself I don't think I would've blamed him too much for betraying me. But he didn't. And I can trust him. And now maybe, hopefully, we'll have something together. Something true.

I turned to smile back at Hermione: "Come on, I can see the edge from here!"

"Slow down a little," she said breathlessly, jogging a little to catch up to me. "Do you even have a plan of action?"

"No," I admitted. "But the others have probably had more time to think, maybe they've got something."

"I hope so, because none of us are going in there without some sort of plan."

"Then don't come."

"What?"

"Well it _is_ pointless you all putting yourselves in danger for me," I shrugged. "It's probably best you all stay here and try to contact The Order again."

Hermione looked at me like I'd just grown an extra head.

"Harry, you know that there is no way we're ever going to leave you to do something idiotic by yourself," she said.

"Yeah," Ron's voice popped up from behind us. "Let us in on the action!"

"Ron!" Hermione and I cried in unison.

We had reached the outer edges of the forest and were stood in a brightly lit clearing that could barely be classified as 'forest' really if it weren't for the twigs and leaves littering the damp evening ground. From the edge of the clearing the rest of our hastily assembled party emerged smiling.

"So, loose the old hag then?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, centaurs," I said, at Ron's shocked face I hastily added: "It's a story for another time. So, loose those slytherins then?"

Ron grinned widely. "It's a story for another time, mate."

"We got your wands," Ginny perked up enthusiastically.

"Thanks guys," I smiled, sliding my wand back into my pocket.

"Well this is all very sweet," snapped Hermione, taking her wand a little less thankfully. "But if we want to get to London any time soon, we're going to have to come up with some sort of plan."

"Jesus, 'Mione," Ron sighed.

"We could fly, on the broomsticks," said Neville, tactfully diffusing the tension.

"I don't think it would work," I said regretfully after a few moments of thought. "It gets really uncomfortable after a while, none of us would be able to walk by the time we got to the Ministry."

"There's no way that apparition or anything would..." Ginny's voice trailed off.

"No," Hermione shook her head firmly. "If anything, Umbridge would've tightened the restrictions on that..."

"Why are you trying to get to the Ministry?" an airy voice sounded from behind us.

I whipped around, wand already drawn, only to come face-to-face with a very shocked Luna who was accompanied by a foal thestril, happily chewing on a chicken leg she held by her side.

"You-Know-Who," Neville said, lowering his own wand. "We need to go to the Ministry to stop him."

"Enough," I snapped. "Thank you, everyone, but I've got you into enough trouble as it is."

"I thought that Dumbledore's Army was supposed to about doing something real," Neville said. "Or was that all just words to you?"

I was speechless. I could see that they all felt the same, but it was dangerous - they didn't seem to understand quite how badly things could go here.

"Maybe you don't have to be all on your own," Ron smiled helpfully.

It was obvious none of them were going to leave. "Fine," I said, less than graciously. "But how are we going to get to London?"

Luna looked down to the thestril by her side, who snorted happily, then looked back up at me smiling.

"Luna! You genius," I almost laughed. "We fly."

"But you said broomsticks-" Ginny protested.

"No, thestrils," I said, pointing to the creature none of them could see. "We can ride the thestrils."


End file.
